


Gunslinger

by pugoata



Category: RWBY
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Western, Angst, Bumbleby - Freeform, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Minor Character Death, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, beehaw but not the cursed kind, politics and racism and etc, smut at some point, some violence, soulmates???, steampunk cowboys??, this is gonna get dark but there will be a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2020-09-24 21:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 218,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20365291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pugoata/pseuds/pugoata
Summary: AU: The Solitas Desert would be an unforgiving place to live even without the ever-present threat of bandits and Grimm; it’s certainly no place for a new Dust mine, or a growing town like Mantle. To make matters worse, the treatment of the indentured Faunus miners has caused an increase in White Fang attacks. The town’s mayor, Jacques Schnee, decided that to protect the town, he’d get the best sheriff money can buy: the renowned gunslinger Yang Xiao Long.It doesn’t take her long to realize that her power is little more than a formality. Schnee’s the one who runs things in Mantle.But people listen to gunslingers, Schnee once told her. After Yang meets the lone survivor of a White Fang attack, the mysterious Blake Belladonna, she realizes that maybe there’s some truth to those words. Maybe she and Blake can bring about some change.It’s a shame that change often comes with a price.





	1. Act I -- Sheriff, Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I didn't intend for the fic to get this long when I started it! For the sake of new readers, I'm going to divide this fic into three "acts" for easier reading. It should hopefully make the length of this fic a little less intimidating, heh. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ### Act 1 -- Sheriff

"Miss Xiao Long? Ma'am?"

Two strikes already and the kid hadn't even stepped into her office. He poked his head around the door, his blue eyes wide and nervous. 

Yang supposed she could cut him some slack. He hadn't yet adopted the western drawl, which meant he was a recent transplant to Mantle. His family had probably moved here to chase the dream of making it big out west, and he was still adjusting.

"Come on in," she sighed, dabbing at her forehead with her bandana. Schnee promised that soon, he'd install one of those fancy Dust-run cooling units that had just rolled onto the market. One of the perks for the town sheriff, he'd told her with an air of a god bestowing his children with milk and honey.

She had to admit, a break from the heat would be nice. 

"Mr. Russet asked me to send for you, ma'am," the boy said, taking a nervous step closer. "He--"

"Please don't call me _ma'am_," Yang told him firmly. "And don’t _miss_ me, either. Just Yang is fine."

The boy blinked, caught off-guard. He knew who she was; she could see it in the fear in his eyes and his refusal to take another step closer. And now she was asking him to call her by her first name, like they were familiar. Like they were _friends_.

She smiled reassuringly, hoping it would put the kid at ease. "What's this about Mr. Russet now?"

"The two o'clock autotrain hasn't come in," the boy said, managing to recover himself to recite the message he'd probably been given some lien to memorize. "Mr. Russet sent a radio to Argus, and they said the train left on time yesterday. It's an hour late, which is--"

"Shit," Yang interrupted calmly. "I'll head over. He pay you already?"

"Yes ma-- um, Yang." Bless his heart, the boy turned scarlet at using her first name, and Yang probably would have chuckled if her thoughts hadn't already started racing along the train tracks. An hour late… for an autotrain, that was bad. Yang pushed her chair out from the desk and opened a drawer. She grabbed a fat silver coin and flipped it his way. His reflexes were true, and he caught it.

"Wow," he breathed. "Thank you, ma-- I mean, Yang."

A silver lien might have been overkill, but on Schnee's payroll, she could afford to be generous. "You were quick and to the point," she said with a shrug, plucking her hat off the hook and setting it on her head. "I like that in a messenger. You're new here, right? What's your name, kid?"

"Jay." He brightened, then shrank back as Yang drew her belt around her hips. "_Whoa_. Are those… them?"

Her guns didn't necessarily look flashy, especially holstered as they were, but the dark wood of their grips gleamed in the light. He was probably standing too far back to appreciate the roses etched in the metal, but she could always show off another time. 

"Yep," she replied, adjusting the flaming heart of her belt buckle. "I'll be doing a demonstration this weekend if you wanna see 'em in action."

"_Whoa_," he said again. Yang smiled grimly, and he darted out of her way as she strode out of her office, clicking the door shut behind her.

"I'll see y'around," she said, offering him a handshake. He seemed torn between awe and excitement as he shook it.

"Yeah!" His voice was little more than a squeak, but Yang had already turned on her heel, heading down the hall, out of the building, and onto main street. 

Mantle had already grown exponentially in the months since Yang had moved there. Schnee liked to boast that Mantle would be the next Atlas, run on Dust power and become a modern oasis in the vast Solitas Desert. Some of the wealthiest in town had imported the little motorcars that were trying to replace horses and carriages. The autotrain depot was a fairly recent addition, only up and running for a couple months.

It shouldn't have been causing problems already. 

Yang was dismayed by the size of the crowd, and by its volume. Many of them were frantic, yelling at each other, yelling at Mr. Russet, yelling at the gods. This wouldn't do.

"Quiet!" she yelled, stalking through the crowd. Upon hearing her, and seeing her, the dull roar faded. Several stepped back. 

Yang never considered herself an imposing figure. She was a young woman, still years away from thirty. Had she been wearing a blouse and skirt rather than pants, she could have been any regular woman. But a gold star gleamed on her breast and the guns on her hips sat like the threat they were. She surveyed the crowd with a hard gaze.

"Mr. Russet, a word."

The stationmaster was a plump man, but he darted forward as quickly as his legs could carry him. He mopped the top of his shiny bald with a grungy-looking handkerchief. His perspiration could have easily been from nervousness as it was from heat.

"Yang," he greeted warmly. "Thank the gods you're here."

She jutted her head in the direction of his booth. "Let's have a word in private."

Silent eyes were on them as the crowd parted before her and Mr. Russet. They'd try to get a word with her, too, she was quite sure, but they wouldn't dare now. On the fringes of the crowd, Yang caught a glimpse of curious Faunus watching them, though she knew they had no stake in whatever had happened. Faunus were forbidden to travel on autotrains.

Yang shut the door behind her. It was hot and sticky in the booth, and not even wind through the open window would give them reprieve. Yang found herself hoping, not for the first time, that the cooling units would become commonplace. 

"The train shoulda been here at two," Mr. Russet explained, getting right to the point as Yang fished her bandana out of her pocket. "They're automatic, for godsakes. There's no _delays_ for autotrains."

"So what do you think?" Yang asked, dabbing her forehead. "Maybe it broke down?"

"I don't know!" he snapped, and Yang lifted one blonde eyebrow. Then he sighed. "Pardon, Yang. I know it ain't your fault. But there were two hundred passengers on that train, and I've got worried family members out there. I don't have no answers."

"Sounds like I gotta get some, then." Yang furrowed her brow. "Has the Argus side sent anyone out?"

"I can radio them and check," he said, wiping his head again, looking eager for something to do. Yang nodded. 

"Do that. I'll go saddle up Bumblebee. When I get back, you can tell me what they’re doing, then I’ll go out and hunt that train down."

As expected, the crowd was clamoring for answers the minute Yang stepped out of the booth. She raised her arms in a gesture for silence. 

"We don't know where the train's at," she informed them. "It left Argus on time yesterday, but there's been no word since. I'm gonna ride along the tracks and see what I can find. Now, leave Mr. Russet be. This ain't his fault, and he don’t know anything."

"My husband's on that train," a voice called out. More voices began to rise, but Yang raised a silencing hand again. 

"I know y'all are worried for your friends and family," she told them. "But I'm gonna do everything in my power to find them."

Yang didn't let herself be stopped as she made her way back through the crowd. Fortunately, her house and stable wasn't too far a walk from the depot. She'd have to send word to Schnee, and let him know the situation, as well as to her deputies, who'd have to be in charge while she was gone. Depending on where the train was, and if Argus was sending their own scouts, she guessed it could be a few days before she was back. She stopped in the house first, gathering up enough food to last her that long. 

When she stepped into the stable, a bag of food in hand, she was surprised to see that she wasn't alone.

"What're you doing here?" she asked Arslan, folding her arms. Bumblebee was already saddled, and the tall palomino stood patiently, rations of grain already packed neatly into her saddlebags. 

"Thought you could use some help." The darker woman stood up with a shrug. "I heard about the train and knew they sent for you."

"So you just assumed I'd need Bumblebee?"

"I just _assumed_ you'd wanna investigate." Arslan placed a hand on her hip. All too recently, it had been Yang's hands on those hips, and she could still remember how her soft her skin had been. Sighing, Yang stepped forward, taking Bumblebee's reins. She couldn’t afford to think about that. Not anymore.

"I don't need your help. I already told you it's better if we just give each other space for a while."

"_Space_," Arslan repeated, her lip curling. "You've done nothing _but _give me that."

"What do you want me to say?" Yang demanded. “We’re done. _You _were the one who came here, when I _didn’t_ ask you--”

“Because I thought you might need a friend,” Arslan snapped, eyes blazing. “And help.”

“I’ve got friends, and I can handle Bumblebee on my own.” 

"So you say," Arslan replied, putting on a bored air that Yang knew was only for defense. "Anyway. I came here to help, not talk."

"Thanks. Don't do it again."

Arslan tutted, then strode out. She paused at the door, then turned. "If you keep pushing people away, Yang, you're gonna have nobody left."

She glared after her, but Arslan's words hit somewhere deep. Angrily, Yang shrugged them off.

When Yang got back to the depot, the crowd had thinned, but the new faces were much more noteworthy. Henry Marigold and Luke Dunn, her deputies, were among them, but it was Jacques Schnee himself at the center. He tapped his fingers on his cane impatiently.

"I hear there's been a problem," he said with a nod at Yang. "And you're going to find the train?"

"Yessir."

"And I presume you'll want Luke and Henry in charge?"

His _presumptions _grated on Yang's already fraying nerves, but she kept her mouth shut. Despite supposedly working for the townspeople, this was the man who paid her. She may have been the sheriff, but it was clear who truly ran the town. She nodded curtly.

"Excellent. Mr. Russet here tells me that Argus is sending scouts from their direction. They'll take the Argus half of the route, you take the Mantle half," Jacques instructed. "If the train is no longer functional, take the passengers to the nearest water well, get them comfortable, then come along back. I'd send a full rescue mission now, but there's little point if everyone is closer to Argus than here."

It was a stupid plan, but Jacques was used to thinking in terms of resources. He wouldn't waste a full rescue party if it wasn't necessary. It was dangerous, out in the desert. Even with the strategically-placed water wells along the route, originally for the railroad workers, extended stays out there could be deadly. It wasn't just Grimm, or rattlesnakes, or dehydration that could kill a man. The sun was enough to break even the strongest person. The Faunus death count for building that railroad had been a high one on that basis alone.

But Yang was good, and Schnee knew it. She and her younger sister had been cattle drivers when he'd recruited Yang to Mantle. He'd actually bought her out of her contract with Ironwood. He'd wanted someone flashy, someone who could both be a sheriff and bring a little prestige to his blooming city. 

Yang had fit both counts to a T.

"Yessir," she told him, tipping her hat to him. "I'll find that train."

Leaving town was a rarity for Yang. As sheriff, she didn't like to leave Mantle to its own devices any longer than she absolutely had to. She had little faith in her deputies, both of whom were wrist-deep in Schnee's pockets. Most sheriffs got some say in their deputies-- Yang's first pick would have been her own sister-- but she couldn't fight her benefactor. There were a lot of things about Mantle that she could only grit her teeth and bear, and her deputies were among the least of them. 

It might have been nice, to forget about her responsibilities for a while, if the train hadn't weighed so heavily on her mind. So many people were relocating to Mantle with their families. Though few humans worked in Schnee's Dust mine-- most of the miners were made up of indentured Faunus-- the industry itself lured in many wealthy investors, up-and-coming businessmen, and the townsfolk who worked for them. 

Yang hadn’t lived in Mantle for even a year, but she’d gotten to see the exploding population firsthand. There had been only a handful of human families there when Yang had accepted Schnee's offer. It was the Faunus, however, that Yang needed to keep an eye on, Schnee had warned her. So many were resentful of their place in the world, and they'd be looking to take it out in their human superiors.

None of that ended up being true in the slightest. 

_I don't like it, Rubes,_ Yang confessed to her sister when she'd been considering the proposal. _It's pretty backwards thinking. _

On their cattle drives, they'd been to the north. They'd watched the progress of Faunus rights in Vale. They may have grown up with the casual racism of the south, but such blatant hatred made her uncomfortable. 

_That Schnee guy is seedy, _Ruby had replied, wrinkling her nose. _He's the type who's gonna try taking advantage of the situation. There's less law to follow out here, and you bet he knows it._

_Well, maybe I can help with that, _Yang had said, optimistic.

What a fool she had been.

It was after the sun had gone down when Yang spied the great hulk of the autotrain, and she already knew she was too late. She brought Bumblebee to a slow walk, keeping one hand on the reins and the other at one of her guns. 

The autotrain lay on its side, giant scratches clawed into the metal siding. She couldn't tell if the Grimm had caused the accident in the first place, but they'd certainly gotten there before she had. Face in a tight scowl, she dismounted. 

"Hello?" she called. Looking around, she drew her guns. "My name is Yang Xiao Long, sheriff of Mantle. If anyone's there, you can come on out."

She waited, hardly daring to breathe. She stepped closer, and finally realized what had happened.

On the side of the first train car, someone had painted a familiar sigil in red. The head of a wildcat with three slashes across it. Yang narrowed her eyes at it, disgusted. The White Fang had attacked the autotrain, and she had to guess that the Grimm came after to finish the job.

In the dark, she needed to be extra careful. She peered into the first car and nearly gagged; it smelled like meat that had been left out in the sun to rot, and she knew that, essentially, that’s what it was. She holstered one gun, eyes still darting around as she loosened the bandana on her neck and tugged it over her mouth and nose. The twang of her own sweat was infinitely better than corpses.

She checked the second car, then the third car. It was always the same.

It was in the fourth car that there was life.

Instinctively, Yang whipped her guns up, keeping them trained on the wild, glowing eyes in the corner. “Show yourself,” she called. They weren’t red; whatever or whoever was in there wasn’t a Grimm. They reminded her, almost, of the way a cat’s eyes refracted the light in darkness. She kept her own eyes trained on them.

“Don’t shoot,” a woman said hoarsely, stepping forward, hands in the air. She stumbled a little on the uneveness of the tipped-over traincar. “I didn’t know if… they’d come back.”

Yang swallowed. In the moonlight that leaked in from the broken windows, this disheveled woman looked like she might have stepped out of that moon itself. She was smeared with dirt and blood, and even though she was shaken, she carried herself with an almost regal air. Yang had never been the type to exaggerate, but this had to have been the most beautiful woman in the world.

She regarded Yang warily.

“Y’all right? What happened here?” Yang managed to asked, ignoring the hole that had pitted in her stomach.

“We… The White Fang attacked the train, and then the Grimm... “ The woman shuddered.

“Is there anyone else in there?”

“No. Just me.”

It smelled that way, too. Yang jutted her head in the direction of the door. “Then let’s get you out into the air. The Grimm are gone, and so are the Fang.”

Outside, Yang pulled her bandana down, letting out a long exhale. Without all the shadows, it was easier to see the golden-eyed woman. The velvet bow on the top of her hair stood neatly, the only part about her that seemed untouched by her ordeal. She took a deep, shaky breath. Wordlessly, Yang took off her canteen from where it was slung over her chest, uncapping it and handing it to the woman.

“Thanks,” she said softly after taking a quick gulp. Yang watched the bob of her throat, almost hypnotized. “I heard you calling, but I didn’t know if it was a trick or something.”

“Nobody’d dare to pretend to be me,” Yang replied, confidence bordering on cockiness. The woman’s eyebrows shot up in… something. It might have been amusement, it might have been contempt. It certainly wasn’t anything Yang was used to seeing when they realized who she was.

“Yang Xiao Long,” the woman repeated. “I’ve heard your name.”

A shadow of a smirk twitched onto Yang’s mouth. “Most people have. I’m the--”

“Sellout.”

“What?” Yang’s eyes widened, but her mouth cracked into a wide grin, baring teeth. In a world of _ma’ams_ and _misses_, getting a bite was almost refreshing, despite the insult that lined it. She could almost forget about the bodies in the traincars in the wake of such boldness. “Pardon me? Did you just call the woman who rescued you a _sellout_?”

The woman’s bronze cheeks darkened. “I’ve heard plenty about you in Argus. The gunslinger that got collared by Jacques Schnee.”

Yang wasn’t smiling anymore. She took a step toward the woman, searching those bright eyes. “_Collared_,” she repeated, her voice a low murmur. The woman took a step back, her eyes narrowing at the dark expression on Yang’s face. “After I pulled you out of a train, where you probably would’ve _died_. Y’know… I could just leave you here. No one would know the difference.”

The woman’s haughty facade slipped. She almost seemed to _brace_ herself, like she was preparing to be slapped. Yang frowned, already trying to slice apart the layers that made up this woman. There were a lot of them, and they mystified her. Still, it was enough for her to guess that the woman’s hard words were only masking something. She let her gaze soften.

“So what’s _your _name, miss?” she asked, withdrawing the threat from her tone. She held out a hand.

“Blake. Blake Belladonna.”

“Blake Belladonna.” Yang liked the way it flowed off her tongue and she smiled. “Nice to meet you. I’m the sellout.”

\--

She helped Blake settle down away from the wreckage, letting her hold onto the whole canteen as well as some jerky and dried fruit. The attack had been that morning, meaning that Blake had been famished by the time Yang had gotten to her. And she was thin, anyway. Despite the fine cut of her clothes, there wasn’t much meat on her bones. It made Yang wonder, but now wasn’t the time or place to question it.

There was a train to deal with.

Yang made her way through each car, one at a time, losing heart as the body count went up. Oddly, many suitcases and bags had been left untouched, but Yang figured that it was some sort of twisted statement that the White Fang was trying to leave. They didn’t care about robbery; they’d come with only one goal in mind, and they had achieved it. There were even some children among the bodies, which made her heart ache. A plush dog, covered in blood, lay just out of reach of the lifeless girl who’d held it. 

The White Fang was well-known, even in the northern cities like Vale, for their ruthless pursuit of… well, it was supposed to be equality. Now Yang wasn’t sure if that was even their aim anymore. She hardened her heart. It wasn’t her job to wonder _why_ they might murder children.

It was only her job to see that it didn’t happen again.

She stepped back out into the night, eyes flaring crimson as she tugged her bandana back down her neck. 

She’d seen the ruined husks of towns that the White Fang had left behind. She’d seen displaced refugees, some of them even coming to Mantle itself with horror stories of violence. She didn’t think she’d ever forget holding the hand of an old man who’d lost his sons, his daughters, and grandchildren to the gang.

_They only let me live ‘cause they didn’t think I’d survive without them. And to tell you the truth, I don’t think I can._ Yang hadn’t been surprised to hear that he had died only a couple days later, apparently from a broken heart.

But this was the first time she’d ever seen those bodies firsthand.

She clenched her teeth and slammed the wall of the autocar with her fist. How different it was, hitting metal instead of wood. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to the coldness of metal. It was the way of the future, she supposed.

“Are… you okay?”

Yang looked up, startled that Blake had approached. She’d almost forgotten she was there at all, so lost in her own thoughts as she was. She offered Yang her canteen back.

“I will be,” she replied, trying to not betray any emotion in her voice. She took back the canteen, looked at it, then shook her head. “I think I need something stronger than this.”

“That bad?” Blake asked softly. Yang allowed herself one hard nod.

“They killed the kids, too,” she said dully, leading Blake away from the scene. There was nothing more she could do here. “I don’t understand. What kind of monsters can murder _kids_?”

Blake opened her mouth, then closed it, looking almost guilty. Yang couldn’t imagine how it must have felt, being the only one to survive such an attack. She felt a stab of pity for the woman.

“How’d _you_ make it out?” She shot Blake a quick glance from the corner of her eye. If a _kid_ couldn’t hide to escape from the attackers, she was surprised there had been any survivors at all. “It looks like you got damn lucky.”

“I was.” Blake agreed. Her voice was low enough that it was nearly a murmur, perhaps still in awe of her own survival. “The lady next to me had a massive suitcase. I ducked behind it. Whoever checked under the seats couldn’t see behind the suitcase, I guess. Saved me from the Grimm, too.”

“Shit.” Yang let out a whistle. “That’s wild.”

“You’re telling me.” Blake stared unhappily off to Yang’s side. “It was a nightmare. I didn’t… I didn’t think they’d kill the kids.”

Something about her last sentence sounded so raw, so full of a desperate sadness that Yang had to stop herself from putting a hand on the woman’s arm. It was her job as sheriff to protect, to reassure, to support, but a part of being a good one was knowing her boundaries. Instead, she shoved her hands in her pockets.

“I’m not surprised,” she said harshly, coming to a stop by Bumblebee. “This isn’t the first time they’ve pulled shit like this. They’re… _monsters_.”

“Monsters,” Blake repeated, disbelieving. “They’ve… killed kids before?”

“Yeah.” She rummaged through one of her saddlebags, hunting for her flask. She sure as hell needed it now. “Not very often. It isn’t their focus, but they tend to go for a _leave-no-survivors_ approach.”

She unscrewed the flask, once again thanking the gods that she thought to keep a little moonshine on hand at all times. Sometimes, she needed it. She took a swig, not even flinching at the burn.

“Want some?” she asked, holding it out. Blake took a deep breath, nodded, and took a large gulp. She frowned, but Yang was impressed that she didn’t gag or sputter. It was cheap, young, and rough, but sometimes, Yang needed a little of that fire when dealing with unpleasant situations. And from the look of it, so did Blake.

“That’s awful,” Blake told her, looking politely disgusted. “What the hell is it?”

The warmth that flooded through her was pleasant. Probably just the alcohol. “Moonshine,” she replied lazily, swirling the liquid before capping it. “I’ve got a friend in town who makes it.”

“I didn’t expect you to be a moonshine person.”

“Oh? What kind of person _did _you expect me to be?” Yang lifted an eyebrow, truly curious.

“I don’t know. I expected anyone working for Jacques Schnee to like… I don’t know. Whiskey, at the very least. The good kind.”

Yang shrugged. “I won’t turn it down, but I’m a cheapskate at heart. I don’t see the point in spending a lot of money on liquor that I don’t understand the… _subtleties_ of.” Yang rolled her eyes. Schnee was wealthy enough to import whisky from _Mistral_, and discuss its flavor in more detail than Yang would think of words for. Blake gave her a long look that, like Schnee’s whiskies, she couldn’t decipher.

“Interesting,” she said at last. Yang let a smile slip.

“What?” she asked daringly. “Is the sellout not the kind of person you thought she’d be?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. But there are a few surprises, I suppose.”

That would be the best she could ask for from a stranger, Yang thought. “Is there anyone waiting for you in town?” Yang asked, taking Bumblebee’s reins. Blake shook her head.

“I came on my own.” Yang nodded. Families weren’t the only new faces in Mantle; single young folks were filling in the cracks, taking up the jobs that would have been harder to manage with children to take care of.

“Then let’s head back. There’s nothing more I can do here, and I gotta talk with ole Mr. Schnee about this… massacre. We’re gonna have an angry town on our hands.”

“_Massacre_,” Blake repeated, looking back at the tipped-over train. Yang caught her breath, because for one moment, Blake almost looked _haunted_, her glowing eyes filling with nothing but pain for her fellow passengers. But then she turned back to Yang, resolved. “Then let’s go, I guess.”

The ride back was silent and solemn, a funeral march in all but name. Yang kept her eyes peeled for Grimm; they were attracted to negativity, and more likely to strike at night than by day, but they weren’t bothered by any of the shadow creatures. They’d likely eaten their fill of chaos already.

Blake had molded herself comfortably against Yang’s back, arms around her waist as they rode back along the train tracks. She obviously had some sort of passing familiarity with horses. So many of the cityfolk, particularly the wealthier ones, didn’t even have that. Transportation for them was either by carriage or autocar, and riding a horse was becoming unfashionable in some parts of Remnant. The disdain had baffled her. She was relieved Blake didn’t seem to be someone with it.

In fact, one of the few things she’d commented on as they rode was to compliment Bumblebee’s easygoing temperament. “She’s so relaxed, for being ridden double,” she remarked, her words close to Yang’s ear.

“I’ve been working with her since she was a foal-- my dad’s the horse expert, so we sorta raised her together.”

“You got her from your dad?”

“Yep. When Ruby and I-- my sister, I mean-- started driving cattle, he insisted on making sure we had good mounts. So I picked Bumblebee.” Yang leaned over and gave the horse a quick pat on the withers. “She hasn’t done me wrong yet.”

Despite Bumblebee’s relaxed nature, riding double meant they had to stop frequently to give the horse a break. Each time they stopped, Yang would hop off and help Blake down.

“You okay?” she would ask as she handed Blake the canteen. Every time, Blake would just nod. The expression on her face indicated that she was lying, but Yang couldn’t exactly blame her. In her shoes, Yang wasn’t sure she’d be okay, either.

With the delay in riding, it was in the unholy hours of the morning that they made it back to Mantle. The one good thing about it being so early was that it meant none of the townsfolk would be awake to question her as they trotted through the town. 

“How’re you doing?” she asked Blake. “Did you have a place to stay?”

“I… didn’t plan anything.” She sounded sheepish. “I figured I’d handle it when I got here.”

“Oh. Shit.” Yang brought Bumblebee to a stop. Before she could go home, she’d need to go to the manorhouse and tell Schnee what she’d found. At the same time, she didn’t want to just dump Blake in the middle of town. She felt responsible for the woman; she’d already been through so much. “You wanna come up with me to Schnee’s manor? I gotta tell him what happened, and maybe you can help fill in some blanks. Afterward, you can stay at my place for the rest of the night, if you’d like. I’ve got a spare room.”

“What-- I… why?” Blake stammered, suspicion lacing her tone. Yang shrugged.

“The inn is gonna make you pay a full night, and considering there ain’t much night left, it seems like a waste. They’d fleece you.”

“I don’t want to bother anyone,” Blake replied resolutely.

“Look.” Yang’s patience was running thin. “You’ve been through a lot today. If I can do anything to make it easier on you, I’ll gladly do that. It’s no bother. I’d be more worried about dumping you at the inn and not knowing if they even had an open room for you.”

For a moment, Yang was worried that Blake would refuse. There was only silence in the dull breeze. It was late enough that the saloons were closed, with no laughter and music to spill out of them. It was just her own breathing, and Blake’s.

“Fine,” Blake said, defeated. “I’m… too tired to deal with any of that tonight, anyway. I just want to sleep.”

“I don’t blame you,” Yang told her softly, directing Bumblebee in the direction of the manorhouse. “But my house is private, and quiet. It’s nice. When I moved here and Schnee told me he was building me a house, I told him I wanted that second bedroom. For my sister, y’know? Once she moves here.”

“I guess he really wanted you out here, huh?”

Yang chuckled. “You don’t know the half of it. He pays me well, and I do what I can. He thinks having a flashy gunslinger as sheriff is good for the town’s prestige, or something. He pulled out all the stops to get me here.”

“No wonder you got collared so easily,” Blake remarked, but there was a lightness in her words. There was none of the bite from their first encounter, and Yang found that without it, her voice was quite lovely. Yang laughed.

“It sure beats driving cattle, too.”

The manorhouse was, by far, the fanciest building in Mantle. It was white, a color Yang figured wouldn’t last in the desert. The paint would peel in a few years and look much more like the typical western house, only much, much larger. There were tall windows, though Schnee had learned by now to keep them curtained against the cruel sun. A loud _whirring_ sound came from a contraption on the side of his house-- a cooling unit, he’d told Yang proudly when he’d gotten it installed. And just the style of the house was more reminiscent of a plantation house than a desert adobe or the western false-front buildings. It was a reminder of Schnee’s background, that he was _different._ He wasn’t a desert rat like Yang. He was _cultured_.

Blake tensed against her back at the manor’s looming presence. “And this is _his_ house?” she asked with disbelief.

“Yeah. He’s _filthy_ rich. He makes enough on Dust to live like a damn king.” Yang did her best to keep her voice neutral. She didn’t like some of the things he did with that money, and she got to see what happened to the people who lived like his serfs. Schnee was a man of excess, and he didn’t care who needed to be stomped on to live that way. “I’ll try not to keep us too long.”

After dismounting, she tethered Bumblebee to his fencepost, rolling her joints with satisfying _pops_. She would’ve loved nothing more than to collapse into her feather mattress and sleep well into the next day, but at this point, she’d be lucky if she got to sleep at all. The mess with the train was going to be hell.

She rapped at the door, loudly, for what felt like a long time before Klein answered. She was familiar with the manservant, who greeted her jovially despite the hour. Behind her, Blake was silent as she peered into the house.

“I need to speak with Jacques. It’s an emergency.” Yang pulled her hat off, only now feeling the sweat from the band when cold air blew against it. “I don’t care if he’s sleeping, just get him up.”

“Right away, Miss Xiao Long,” the man said, inclining his head respectfully and welcoming them in. She grimaced at the _miss_, but Klein was one man who could never be persuaded to use her first name. She had a feeling that even a common child on the street would be a _miss_ to Klein.

“Miss Xiao Long?” Blake repeated when Klein bustled away. “Is that what I’m supposed to call you?”

“Please don’t. Hearing him say it is bad enough.” She led Blake inside to the sitting room, making herself at home in one of the plush chairs. “Feel free to take a seat. It might be a few minutes.”

Blake straightened her skirts out. Covered in dirt and dried blood, she undoubtedly felt self-conscious in such a clean space. She sat down anyway, uneasy and nervous. Yang tried to flash her a smile, but it didn’t meet her eyes. Seeing her head-on, and the state she was in, was a reminder of what she’d been through. What she’d survived. 

“It’s so big,” Blake remarked, as if to fill the oppressive silence. Yang nodded.

“He’s got a certain taste, that’s for sure.”

“Is your house this big?”

“No way. It’s not really much bigger than any other of the houses here. I don’t think I could live with so much empty space.” Yang stretched her legs out to make herself more comfortable. After hours on a horse, she could find gratitude for _this_ sort of luxury. “I’m a simple woman.”

“I see.” Blake _almost_ smiled, and Yang frantically racked her brain for something to stretch that smile out more. But then Schnee burst in on them, still tying his robe.

“What happened?” he demanded, wide eyes darting from Yang to Blake. “Klein said it was an emergency.”

“Yeah.” Yang hopped off her cushion. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was the way Jacques Schnee stared down at her when she was seated. “We’re gonna need a drink for this one.”

“Klein!” Schnee barked. “The Salem. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” Klein bobbed his head and left the room. With his drink choice, Yang could tell he was taking her seriously. The Salem, she’d learned, was a pricey whisky.

“Tell me everything,” he said, his icy stare landing back on Yang. “_Everything_.”

So she did, not leaving out a single detail. With each one, his already-pallid face grew paler. By the time Yang nodded at Blake and explained that she was the only survivor, he had to sit down. The minute Klein returned with three glasses, filled with an amber liquid, he took his with a hefty swallow. 

“There were two _hundred_ people on that train,” he said after Yang had finished. “Two _hundred_.”

“And children,” she reminded him somberly. “We’re gonna have a big problem with the town tomorrow.”

Jacques wasn’t prone to swearing, but the string of expletives he let out was impressive. He ran a hand across his white moustache, shaking his head.

“First thing in the morning,” he said after a few minutes. “We’ll need to have a forum. To… to explain what happened.”

“We’ll be lucky if we don’t get a damn riot,” Yang pressed, swirling her whisky in its glass. She considered, then took a sip. “This has been the biggest White Fang attack since… I don’t know. Since Mantle’s existed, that’s for sure.”

“God _damn_,” he rasped, lifting his glass to take another sip, only to find it empty. “Klein!”

Klein, ever-attentive, seemed to expect the order. Carefully, he poured another generous serving into his outstretched glass.

“I’ll let Luke and Henry know-- they’ll need to be here for this,” Yang told him. “But if you can have your own security there, too, I’d feel a lot better.”

“Done,” Schnee said, without hesitation. “Klein, I’ll need you to take care of that.”

“Of course, sir.”

“I suppose it goes without saying that you should bring your guns tomorrow,” Schnee added, eyes flickering down to her holsters. Yang nodded.

“We can all pray that I won’t need ‘em.”

Blake was nearly dozing on the couch by the time Yang and Schnee wrapped up their planning. Impromptu forums such as this were rare, and usually always dire. As Yang was the one who’d seen the aftermath, she would lead it, though Schnee would be there, as well. In the morning, he told her, he’d brief Weiss, who also had a knack for dealing with the people.

“Those _animals_,” Schnee finally hissed, several glasses later. Blake came to with a jerk. “They should all just be exterminated.”

“And it’s talk like _that_ that makes the White Fang attack in the first place,” Yang told him firmly, setting her glass down. “And it’ll encourage a riot if you talk like that.”

“Of course,” he grumbled. “We can’t have that.”

“I’m gonna get Blake taken care of, but I’ll meet you at the town hall before the forum starts,” Yang said, standing up. “I’ll take care of getting the messages sent out.”

“Excellent.” Jacques, too, stood and gave Yang a nod. “Klein will see you out.”

Yang was used to not being thanked. And why should she expect him to? she thought dourly. He paid her. That was all the thanks he ever needed to give.

Blake followed her out soundlessly, though Yang couldn’t tell if it was from the solemnity of the meeting or from sheer exhaustion. “Y’all right?” she asked, and Blake nodded.

“I’m just tired.”

“Same.” Yang thought longingly of her bed, knowing well that she probably shouldn’t expect to sleep in it for the rest of that night. There were messages to send, an agenda to make, riots to quell. “You can sleep in, if you like. You don’t need to go to the forum.”

“I might have to take you up on that.”

Since she lived just in town, the ride there was brief. She left Bumblebee in the stall; she’d come back and give her a proper rub-down after settling Blake in. The day had been taxing on the poor horse. For the briefest moment, she almost regretted sending Arslan away, if only because she’d been so good with Bumblebee.

“All right, make yourself at home,” Yang told Blake, gesturing her inside. “Perks of being _collared_ by Schnee include running water, so help yourself to the bath.”

“Running water?” Blake asked, surprised. “He really has you spoiled, huh?”

_Spoiled_. It was probably true, but based on the rest of Yang’s house, it didn’t seem that way. Unlike the manor, her house was furnished simply, with more wood than cushion. One sepia photograph hung on the wall, but other than that, it was bare. There were no paintings, no sculptures, no stained glass.

“Your room is right in here,” Yang said, opening a door. “And I’ll get you a nightshirt.”

“You’re not a nightgown person, then?”

Yang snorted. “Nightshirts are so much better. Besides, gowns weren’t very practical on cattle drives. You can always just pull pants on and tuck your nightshirt into them, but actual nightgowns are too long for that.”

“I guess that makes sense. I never thought about that.”

She accepted it gratefully and listened as Yang taught her how to work the faucets in the bath. Running water was more common in cities, but the lower classes often didn’t have it. From the careful attention Blake paid to the instructions, Yang could guess what class she might have been a part of.

“And just pull that plug when you’re done.” Yang straightened, and offered up as dazzling a smile as she could muster. “Now I need to get a little work done, but make yourself at home. I’ve got food in the cupboards if you’re hungry. Nothing fancy-- I’m not like Schnee. I don’t have the imported shit. But it’ll fill your belly, which’s always been enough for me.”

“Thank you,” Blake replied quietly. She cast her eyes to the floor, the wave of uncertainty riding her features once more. “I… Well, _thank_ you. I’ve heard a lot about you, y’know. But I don’t think… you’re what I expected.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Yang gave her a nod. “If I’m around and you need anything, feel free to ask. I gotta take care of Bumblebee and get some messages delivered, but I’ll be around. Have a good night.”

“You, too, Yang.” A chill ran up her spine as Blake smiled at her. Yang shut the door behind her, hopefully keeping whatever spell that woman had cast on her trapped behind that door. She couldn’t afford to lose focus now.

As she’d thought, Yang got no sleep that night. She wrote up her messages and delivered them herself, grateful that her deputies didn’t live far from her own house. She also needed to inform Mr. Russet of the train’s fate, so he could radio his fellows in Argus. Over the next few days, both ends of the train tracks would need to send people to recover what they could from the accident site and identify the victims. At least the second part would be as easy as looking over the manifest. With Blake being the only survivor, they wouldn’t need to depend on identifying individual bodies, unless people wanted to recover any of them and bring them back to either Argus or Mantle.

It was all a disaster, and Yang dreaded the coming forum.

She had to draft up a detailed report on her findings at the autotrain, which could easily be transcribed and printed at a later date. She needed one for herself, but Schnee would need one, too. The stationmasters and officers in Argus would probably ask for copies. Maybe other towns would, as well, considering the White Fang’s involvement.

It was a lengthy report, and her hand was cramping by the time she finished. She groaned and shook it out, then glared out the window at the rising sun.

At least Blake seemed to be sleeping soundly. She’d been delivering her messages by the time Blake had finished in the bath, but Yang had peeked in when upon returning. She almost expected the woman to not be there at all; unattached and in a new place, maybe she’d fled. She’d seen how people could be when they panicked.

But Blake was still there, sound asleep, face buried in her pillow. She must have put her bow back on after her bath, for it was tidily in place. Maybe this was the city way of styling hair, much like the rollers that the wealthy women of Mantle often wore at night. She had looked so peaceful as she’d slept, not even stirring when Yang had opened the door. Yang could freely admit she was beautiful, but that was all the more reason she needed to behave herself. She’d closed the door quickly, leaving the woman to her slumber.

She’d been through enough without having the town’s sheriff leering at her as she slept.

Yang was in a sour mood as she got ready for the forum. A quick glance in the mirror had revealed dark circles under her bloodshot eyes. She did have the wherewithal to bathe and change her clothes, but not even that could take away the look of sheer exhaustion. She’d pulled all-nighters as a sheriff before, but rarely had she spent hours on horseback during that time, and never had she seen so many horrors in such a short span of time.

She’d sent a young girl to ring the meeting bell, and slowly, townsfolk began to trickle in. It was a bell for emergencies, and even though she knew the entire town wouldn’t be here, there would be enough to spread the word. She got onto the stage, arms folded as she watched the room fill. There were no Faunus, as the town hall was off-limits to them, but there were people here who were friendly to the miners. The word would spread, and with it, hopefully their vigilance would, as well.

Behind her, Schnee and his daughter took their seats. As mayor, he would oversee the meeting, but would not interfere. The bad news was for Yang to deliver; she knew him well enough that in case anything went wrong, he wouldn’t want to bear the brunt of it.

Another perk of being the sheriff, she supposed. She shot them a grimace of a smile, which neither returned. Schnee only gave her a nod, while Weiss didn’t respond at all. She only blinked once before turning her cold stare back to the gathered people.

“Thanks for coming,” she told the crowd somberly. “It’s been a long night for me, so I’m gonna cut right to the chase.”

Her gaze flicked over to the exits, where her deputies and security had been strategically placed. 

“Yesterday, an autotrain was s’posed to arrive with new transplants here. Many of you were expecting friends, family. When it didn’t arrive, I traveled along the tracks myself to figure out what happened.” Yang swallowed, and took a deep breath, wishing she could be anywhere else right about now. “I’m sorry to tell you that there was an… incident. An attack. Only one person got out alive.”

“An attack?” someone’s voice rang out, somewhat shrilly. An angry, mournful din began to rise from the crowd as the news sunk in, and Yang held up a hand to silence them.

“It was the White Fang,” she told them. There was no point in hiding it. She tried to ignore the people who’d begun to weep, a difficult feat when so many of them were wailing. 

“Those _animals_!” an angry woman shrieked. “My boy was on that train!”

“And my husband!”

“And my--”

“That’s enough!” Schnee declared, pounding his gavel. “_They _are the animals. We are not. So control yourselves, and let our sheriff speak."

"Thank you, mayor," Yang said, well-practiced with her smooth tone. It was rare, and crude, for Schnee to use a slur like _animal _in public, but she wouldn't contradict him. Not here. Not now. Rocking the boat with such a volatile crowd would be suicide. "Again, I offer my deepest sympathies to those who've lost anyone on that train. What happened was unforgivable, and the autotrain depots are gonna investigate, to see how this situation can be prevented in the future. We also--"

"That does jack for my sisters! They were on that train!" a broken-sounding young man called.

"Are we just gonna let those animals get away with it?!"

"Those _animals_!"

"_Silence_!" Schnee roared, banging his gavel over and over in quick succession. "We will have _silence_!"

"They murdered my family in cold blood," an old woman spat. "And you want us to stay silent?! We should find those Fangs and give them _twice_ the pain!"

"An eye for an eye!"

Yang had heard that phrase before. Only a couple months ago, in retaliation for a smaller-scale attack by the White Fang, some of the rowdier townsfolk had found scapegoats in a small group of Faunus laborers. All Faunus were the same, they'd told each other as they'd strung those poor souls up in a tree. This would send the message to those Fangs, those animals. An eye for an eye. 

Yang hadn't gotten there in time to save the Faunus. She'd personally cut them down and called for the arrest of all involved. 

In the end, they were only fined. Those laborers had been indentured to Schnee, and killing them had cost him money; that was the only crime. Some of those same folks were in this very room now, walking free, lifting their voice in a defiant chant. 

"There will be _no _talk of that," Yang hollered, but it was no use. People were jumping up, beginning to congregate. The security team waded through the crowd, batons at the ready. 

Yang was faster. 

In the span of a few seconds, she'd targeted a ringleader. He wore a tall hat on his head, and he was raising his fist and his voice. 

Time to remind him who the sheriff was. 

She pulled out one of her revolvers in a quick draw and shot it before anyone had even noticed she’d reached for it.

There was a collective gasp, then silence. In a daze, the ringleader waved a hand over his head in the space where the hat had been. It had been blown right off his head and onto the floor, a single bullet hole straight through the leather. 

The crowd gaped.

"This was White Fang work," Yang told them quietly. She blew the Dust residue her shot had left behind. "We won't tolerate any retaliation against the Faunus. Is that understood?"

Silence. 

At least she shut them up. 

\--

By the time she managed to get home around lunchtime, Yang was in an even fouler mood. After she'd explained what had happened, the plan for the future, and a defensive strategy for the town itself, she had still been cornered by a long queue of grieving citizens, others who thought they had better plans, and the few who argued with her about retribution.

Even on a good day, dealing with that would have been exhausting. 

She couldn't take her frustration out on the people, though. There was too much sadness, too much fear. She couldn't blame them. So she offered hugs, comfort, condolences, reassurances. It was the best she could do in these circumstances.

She couldn't let her exhaustion win until she made it home. 

With a groan, she loosened her collar and took off her hat and belt. She set them on the table, then slumped into one of the dining chairs. She plopped her head down with a _thump_.

There was still so much she needed to do, but Schnee had given her the afternoon off. He may have been a heartless old bastard, but he knew Yang would be worthless to him without rest. He was already furious about her actions with the gun. 

_You could have killed him_, he'd hissed when he'd finally gotten her alone. 

_You hired me _because_ of my skill_, she retorted. _People listen when they remember I've got it. And I don’t miss. _

"I take it the forum didn’t go well?" a soft voice asked, and Yang nearly jumped. She'd been so preoccupied with the events of that morning that she'd completely forgotten about Blake. 

And how could she? Still in her nightshirt and still looking tired, just the sight of her nearly winded Yang. The nightshirt hung to her knees, but her calves were long and toned. Her hair was a little tangled from sleep, endearing rather than sloppy. Yang forced herself to blink and hastily turn away.

This was an otherworldly sort of beauty that left her temporarily speechless. 

"I… Uh, yeah." Yang rolled her shoulders, feigning nonchalance. "It was… about what you’d expect.”

“Was there a riot?”

“No.” Yang heaved a sigh and slowly unknotted the bandana around her neck. “But they’re not happy. The last time the White Fang killed people, Faunus ended up getting lynched.”

“I heard about that,” Blake replied, paling. “Do you… think that might happen? Again?”

“I have no idea,” Yang told her truthfully. “I’ll need to keep an eye out for sure, and… gods, this is such a headache. I’m not going to tolerate any more lynching. There’ll be consequences if they even _try_.” She almost added, _And it won’t just be a fine_, but she stopped herself. She had to maintain her professionalism, and saying that would have cut too close to voicing disrespect of Schnee.

“Can’t have property damaged,” Blake remarked dryly. Yang narrowed. How much did Blake know about those lynchings?

“No,” Yang said slowly, giving her an appraising stare. “Because it’s _murder_.”

For her part, Blake looked properly abashed. Regretfully, Yang pushed her chair back. She wasn’t really a day drinker, but technically, this could be considered her night. She grabbed a nondescript bottle off the counter and a glass.

“What’s that?” Blake asked, frowning at the lack of label.

“Same thing we had last night. Want some?”

Blake grimaced. “It’s too early for that.”

“Not for me,” Yang replied with fake cheer. She took a big gulp of it, hoping the burn of the moonshine would overpower the ache of her frustration. “It’s still late for me.”

A small frown crossed over Blake’s face as she processed what Yang meant. “Have you not slept?”

“Nope,” Yang replied, popping the _p_. “Haven’t had the time to.”

She sank back into the chair, took another sip, then gazed back up at Blake. So, it wasn’t just the moonlight that made those golden eyes so unnerving. They were just naturally spellbinding.

“Oh, and good news from Schnee,” she added, blinking to keep the room in focus. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep getting to her. “He’s gonna pay your expenses till you get on your feet. He said it was the least he could do, considering what you went through.”

Blake raised an eyebrow by a fraction. “That’s… very kind of him.”

“I _may_ have had something to do with it,” Yang added. Her face crinkled with a smile. “So whenever you’re ready, I can take you over to the inn. We’ve only got the one so far, though I think they’re building another… oh, and there’s no running water. I mean, not yet. I think they’re gonna try and get it installed soon, and…”

“Yang.” Blake held a finger over her own lips, eyes glittering with amusement. “You’re rambling.”

“Am I?” Yang huffed, then took another swig. “Sorry.”

“I could use a little bit longer of a nap,” she admitted. “Why don’t you get some rest, too?”

“Oh.” Yang nodded at the suggestion-- so _reasonable_. “If you were just gonna go back to bed anyway, I guess I could take a little nap, too.”

“A little nap,” Blake echoed, the corners of her mouth twitching. “You look like you could use at least that.”

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve been wanting to just… lay down.” Yang shook her head, pulling her blonde hair free of its leather tie. Bolstering her argument, her mouth stretched into a wide yawn.

And finally-- _finally_\-- Blake smiled. Not a sardonic one, or a half-smile, or a smirk. It was a soft sort of smile, the kind that made Yang’s stomach flutter.

“Then go to bed.”

“As soon as I finish this.” Yang tipped the rest of the glass back, swallowing what was left. “Wake me up when you get up, and I can take you over to the inn and get everything set up on Schnee’s account.”

She got up, wobbling only slightly as she stood. It probably had more to do with exhaustion than with the booze, but Blake was over in an instant, hands out to steady her.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Yang said, but made no move to brush off her hands. They were close enough that when their eyes met, she could see the hint of blush beginning to creep onto Blake’s cheeks. Yang gave her a small smile. “See? I’m good.”

Blake pulled back. Yang grabbed her guns off the table, eyes never leaving Blake’s, smile never fading.

“Right,” Blake said faintly.

There were more than just butterflies in Yang’s stomach. It felt like the running of wild horses.

“Just wake me up when you’re ready to go,” she said softly. “It doesn’t take me long to get ready. Don’t be shy about waking me. Get some rest.”

“I… okay.” Neither of them could break the stare as Yang backed away. Even as she turned, her eyes lingered on Blake’s for an extra few seconds before turning to her room.

As she pulled her clothes off to change into a nightshirt, she couldn’t get those eyes out of her head. Yang had never felt so locked into a gaze like that before; their eyes just _fit_ together, slotting together the same way a bullet slid into its chamber. Blake had to have felt it to. The way she’d stared back…

Yang shook her head, desperately trying to clear the fog from her mind. It was only the exhaustion, and nothing more.

Still… as she closed her eyes, she wondered briefly about the lynchings again. It was possible that word of them had traveled to Argus and beyond, but Blake had made it seem like she knew that the murderers had gotten away with only paying a fine, that it had been more of a matter of property damage than actual murder. That wasn’t a detail that would have spread to Argus. 

But the thought was slippery, and it slid out of her grasp as she closed her eyes. As sleep overcame her, the thought winked out.


	2. Chapter 2

“My name is Yang Xiao Long. For those who don’t know me, I’m the sheriff here in Mantle.”

A crowd of people stood along the fence, with many of the children boosted onto the rails to watch the demonstration. For their own protection, Yang had instructed everyone to stay behind it. Still, it didn’t stop the kids from holding out their hands, coins clasped between their fingers, eager to be the one Yang chose.

It seemed with every demonstration she gave, the crowd got bigger with the ever-expanding population. Everyone wanted to see her prowess for themselves.

On the edges of the crowd stood a handful of Faunus. For most of them, they’d seen her shoot before, and the novelty had worn off. They knew what she was capable of. Schnee still encouraged them to attend all of Yang’s demonstrations, however. For the Faunus, she wasn’t just entertainment. These demonstrations were to remind them of who they would deal with if anyone thought of rebelling. 

The notion made Yang uncomfortable-- she didn’t care much for intimidating anyone who didn’t seem to need it-- but the guise of a show made it easier to forget those sorts of details. Besides, most people seemed to enjoy watching her shoot. It was simpler, to focus on the positives.

“Even if you don’t know my name, y’all’ve probably heard about the Solitas Dragon. The Golden Hornet. Or maybe even just the Gunslinger.” Yang paused for dramatic effect, smiling. “People’ve called me all of those things.”

“The Huntress!” another voice called out. Yang laughed.

“Yeah, that too. I’m gonna forget my real name with all these nicknames.” The crowd laughed, and Yang spun her revolvers around her fingers, unable to resist showing off before slipping them back into their holsters, the motion smooth and effortless. The newer townsfolk _ooh_’d and _ahh_’d. Even the more established ones watched with envy of her ease around the weapons. She treated them as an extension of herself, as extra limbs, and it showed.

She looked over the crowd, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw Blake off to the side, watching intently. Rarely did it seem so important to impress her crowd, but suddenly, it did now.

“But it all comes down to the same thing,” she went on. “I can shoot, and I never miss.”

Then, without warning, she drew one of her guns from where it hung by her thigh. She shot a bullseye on her target and had returned the gun to its holster before most of the audience had even realized what had happened. There was a short pause, then an amazed gasp. There was a smattering of applause and Yang smirked, folding her arms.

“I’ve been shooting since I was old enough to hold a gun,” she told the crowd, stepping closer for them to hear her better. “My mom was a gunslinger, and she left her guns to me when she died. Though, that isn’t to say I haven’t… _improved_ on them a little.”

Yang drew her guns again, slower. There was a small switch on the barrels, and she flicked both with her thumb, the move well-practiced and simple. She aimed behind her and fired both at once. The Dust inside erupted, propelling her forward and upward, her hair loose and streaming behind her in a wave of gold. She landed in a crouch, right before the fence line. Another gasp, more applause.

She cast a quick glance over to Blake, hoping to see some kind of surprise on her face. But the woman only gave her a small smile and raised an eyebrow. Yang flushed.

“I… Well, I mean to say…” Dammit, Blake had her flustered. She cleared her throat. “I usually use Dust in my bullets instead of regular gunpowder. But I can also use that Dust in other ways, like how you just saw.”

“You can blow up stuff like a firework!” a kid called out, clearly having seen the demonstration before and used to her lecture. Yang laughed.

“Exactly like a firework,” she said with a nod. She surveyed the row of kids, who all eagerly held up their coins. She plucked one from the hand of a small girl, who smiled wide enough to show off the gap in her teeth. Yang tossed it with her thumb lazily. “Thanks, darlin’.”

But it wasn’t time to use it yet. That would be for the grand finale.

Yang tried not to think about Blake as she showed off her flashiest ways of shooting. She hit targets, apples, tin cans. At one point, she threw a tin can in the air and managed to get six shots into it before it hit the ground, even when it started to ricochet in another direction. She demonstrated her quick draws, increasing her distance each time. With each stunt, the crowd grew more and more excited, but every time Yang looked at Blake, the other woman would only raise her eyebrow or offer the smallest of smiles.

She showed off the different varieties of Dust bullets she used: an apple exploded with Fire Dust. Sparks flew when she used Lightning Dust. Few of these Dust bullets were practical, and most were more expensive than Fire Dust, but at least it put on a good show. As long as Schnee provided them, she’d be happy to show what Dust was capable of. The crowd roared its approval when she froze a target solid with Ice Dust. 

“And now I’ve got one last trick I’d like to show y’all,” she told the crowd, loading regular gunpowder bullets into the chambers. “After I’m done, I welcome all of the kids here to hunt for the coin I’m about to shoot.”

Yang pulled out her coin and rolled it in her fingers. She pulled one of her guns out, looking at it fondly. Dramatically.

She gave the coin a final toss into the air, nice and high. She stepped back, and shot.

The crowd jumped at the _ping _of metal against metal, but the now-twisted coin shot off somewhere into the dirt. There was an eruption of applause.

With a smug smile, Yang slipped her gun back into its holster. “And that’s it. Thanks for coming, y’all!” she called out, giving them a cheerful wave. “Kids, you can come on out!” But already, the kids were climbing over and between the fence rails, racing over to the general vicinity of where the coin had landed. 

As always, people approached her afterward as she packed up her ammo. People loved to gush, to express jealousy of her skill, to try wiggling their way into friendship with the famous shooter. In this part of Remnant, she was a legend, and on demonstration days, her ego always grew a few sizes.

Still, she would have rather sought Blake out than sit around and make nice with the townsfolk. She hadn’t seen the other woman since she’d dropped her off at the inn days before. Her curiosity was rooted in duty, of course. She only wanted to check in on how Blake was doing after the trauma of the attack, and to see if she was settling in well. That was all.

It had nothing to do with attraction.

Yang dabbed at her forehead with her bandana as the last well-wisher departed. The kids, with their short attention spans, had left as soon as the warped coin she’d shot had been found and claimed.

Off to her side, someone clapped, slowly. Yang tried to keep her grin from spreading too widely.

“Blake Belladonna,” she said, relishing the sound of her name on her tongue as the dark-haired woman approached. From the way her skirt and blouse hung so loosely, Yang guessed it had been donated by good-hearted townsfolk. So many had wanted to help this lone survivor, and Yang could have a little pride in the generosity of her people. The top button of her blouse had been left unbuttoned, and Yang tried not to stare at the hint of skin. “Enjoy the show?”

“I suppose your reputation may have been well-earned,” Blake admitted, the corners of her mouth twitching. “That was impressive.”

“Well, thank you.” She gave her a wink. “I live for your compliments.”

Blake rolled her eyes. “Arrogant _and_ shameless,” she remarked mildly.

“I’ve gotta be something.”

“Mhm.” Blake folded her arms. “Right.”

“So,” Yang said, mimicking Blake and folding her own lazily. “You settling in okay?”

“I am,” she replied, holding Yang’s gaze. It only made the butterflies in Yang’s stomach flutter more violently. “I’ve got a job offer already.”

“Do you, now?”

“At the Black Saloon, serving… what?” Blake’s brows furrowed when she saw Yang’s grimace. “Something wrong with that?”

“I wouldn’t accept that one,” Yang told, dropping her arms. She searched for a way to put it lightly. “It’s not… the best environment for a pretty girl.”

“A pretty girl,” Blake repeated, lip curling.

“A pretty girl,” Yang said, smiling, despite the warning she was trying to offer. A tingling warmth spread through her body. “You definitely count as one.”

“You’re pretty bold.”

Yang bobbed her head to the side, pretending to consider. “Maybe I am.”

“Your ego is going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

Yang snorted. “Maybe so.”

“So… why shouldn’t I work at the Black Saloon?”

Right. Yang needed to focus. “Oh… yeah. There was a point to my compliment.” Blake rolled her eyes, but Yang went on. “Mercury doesn’t exactly treat his workers… very well. Particularly the women. He’s a little handsy.”

“Oh,” Blake said, frowning. “Is he just allowed to do that?”

Yang bit her lip. She was toeing the line with her professional impartiality, but the idea of Mercury treating Blake that way wasn’t a pleasant one. “It's… something I can't really control," she admitted. "I mean, I've tried… but Mercury's got _connections_, and he uses them. If you… know what I mean."

Blake said nothing, only frowning as she digested the information. She was clever enough to pick up what she’d meant, and Yang could tell it made her uneasy. “So… people can get away with things if they know the right people?”

This wasn’t the direction Yang wanted the conversation to go. She rocked back on her heels, uncomfortable. The high of her demonstration was wearing off, and this insecurity was a biting one. When she had her guns in her hand, it was easy to pretend that she was invincible. It stung when her uselessness was made explicit, when her lack of true authority was exposed. “That’s… not exactly what I mean.”

“So what _do_ you mean?” Blake pressed. 

“I mean… look.” Yang pulled her hat off, running a hand through her hair to loosen the gathering sweat. “I know I’m sheriff here. But sometimes… there’s only so much I can do when the higher-ups pull their shit.”

“Oh,” Blake replied, amber eyes narrowing. "Like corruption.”

“If it was up to me, I’d break Mercury Black’s fingers,” Yang said, close to a snap. “But he knows the right people, so he gets away with it, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“Oh,” Blake said again, voice soft. She nodded once, the movement slow. The bow on her head bobbed a little with the motion. Yang’s face burned. She wanted Blake to see her as a proud gunslinger, not a sheriff who walked with her tail between her legs, tied up on Schnee’s leash. She toed her ammo case absently, then reset her hat back on her head.

“Crocea Mors is a good place, if you’re lookin’ for saloon work,” Yang went on, trying to recover some of her lost pride. “Jaune’s a good guy. He makes that moonshine I drink, actually. Just tell him Yang sent you, and I’m sure he’ll give you a job.”

“Do you call in favors for every pretty girl you meet?” Blake asked drolly. Yang managed to crack a smile.

“You’ve been through enough shit as it is,” she said, recovering her confidence when given something she could actually _do_. She leaned in, her smile spreading. “You deserve _something_ easy.”

Blake leaned in closer to match her, eyes glittering. “You’re terrible.”

Yang tipped back her head and laughed. _This_ was the sheriff she could be, when she could forget about nasty things like _corruption_ and _uselessness_. She could laugh, she could flirt, she could get along with others. This was the part of her job she was good at.

“Maybe,” she agreed, cocking her head. “Though, I don’t know why you’re rushing into work. You could probably get away with mooching off Schnee for weeks.”

“I turned down his money.”

“What?” Yang’s eyebrows nearly shot into her hat. “Why?”

“I don’t want to owe that man anything,” she said flatly. She took a breath, and sighed. “I mean, it was generous of him. But I heard plenty about him in Argus. I just… don’t want to owe him anything, and have him trying to ask for favors later. I… can’t say I really trust him.”

Yang grimaced, but nodded. It was the trap she’d fallen into. There was always a price on his help. His money was never free. “That sounds smart.”

“No offense to you, or anything,” Blake added hastily, looking away. “You’ve been nothing but good to me.”

“None taken,” Yang shrugged, even though her stomach dropped just a little. Blake was doing the right thing, turning down his money. It was something Yang didn't have the guts to do herself. “But… look. Even if you don’t trust him, I want you to be able to trust me, at least. I _am_ the sheriff, after all. So if there’s anything _I _can do to help… all you gotta do is ask.”

Blake looked back up at her, frowning, suddenly alert. “No offense, again, but I try not to get into the habit of…” She paused, looking uncertain about continuing her thought. “Of trusting people.”

Yang met her eyes head-on. There was that wildness again in Blake’s eyes, the same kind she’d seen when she’d pulled her out of the train days before. It was curious, and haunting, and beautiful. Yang swallowed, but found herself saying, “There’s nothing wrong with trusting someone now and then.”

Blake’s lips twitched into a humorless smile. “Yang,” she explained patiently, “I _don’t_ trust.”

Yang always liked a challenge. She opened her mouth to say something, to meet that challenge, but frowned over Blake’s shoulder. Someone was coming.

So many of the wealthier women in town carried parasols against the glare of the desert sun, and it was angled in a way to hide the woman’s face from view. But from the way she carried herself, it only took a few seconds for Yang to recognize her. Seeing the direction of Yang’s gaze, Blake turned, walls visibly in place.

Yang could work on breaking them down another time.

“Afternoon, Weiss,” Yang said cheerfully, stepping forward, grin back in place. “You’re a little late for the show, but I’d be more than happy to give you a private one.”

The parasol pulled back, and Weiss’s icy glare was unimpressed. For being nearly blind in one eye, she could stare with the force of both of them. “Yang,” she greeted, voice severe. She gave Blake a nod. “Miss Belladonna.”

It had been an interesting experience, getting to be on first-name terms with Weiss Schnee. During her first couple of weeks in Mantle, Weiss had insisted on full formalities. As heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, she’d picked up on her father’s rigid manners and cold behavior. It was only when Yang had been invited to a _soirée _at the Schnee manorhouse that she’d gotten under Weiss’s skin at last.

_I swear to the gods_, she’d warned Weiss in a low voice. She’d had just enough to drink for impropriety. _If you call me _Miss Xiao Long _one more time, I’ll put your other eye out, too._

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t her smartest move. It had been a wonder that Weiss hadn’t kicked her out of the party right then. Instead, the other woman had nearly _smirked_, only forcing it back after her lips had given a violent twitch. It had caught her off-guard, but something about the remark had been almost welcome. It had been something different than the perfect etiquette of the rest of the party.

Maybe Yang hadn’t been the only one sick of formalities.

Since then, they’d created a sort of truce. It couldn’t truly be called friendship, but Yang suspected that Weiss didn’t have any of those. What they had, though, was close enough.

Still, it was a rarity to see her about town. She usually stayed in the comfort of the cold manorhouse, sweeping up her father’s messes and dealing with the bureaucratic bullshit that would have given Yang a headache. Seeing her out here, amid the dust of the empty field, was a surprise.

“I had a feeling you’d still be here,” Weiss remarked. Her eyes flickered to Blake. “Flirting with the spectators after a demonstration. Typical.”

Amusement flashed in Blake’s eyes as Yang blushed. “Can I help you?” she asked, annoyed.

“They caught the runaways last night,” she said flatly. She jutted her fine chin in the direction of the Faunus quarter. “Three of them. One’s just a kid. I thought you’d want to know.”

Yang frowned, forehead creasing as she tried to understand. There should have been no need for her to know about this. It was usually the foremen who dealt with Faunus runaways. Unless…

“Wait.” Her mouth went dry. “They’re not...”

Weiss gave one harsh nod, and Yang paled.

“We don’t brand anymore,” she said slowly, for confirmation.

“That was the theory,” Weiss replied. Her tone was hard to read, but it was serious, and Yang knew it was no joke. 

There would be no time to waste.

Without even a wave, she booked it to the Faunus quarter, leaving the other women and her box of ammo behind. This was a bigger priority. This was something she needed to _stop_.

Soon after she’d started working in Mantle, Yang had witnessed a branding. It was usually done to runaways, as both a warning to keep the Faunus in line and to identify them should they try to escape again. She’d been horrified, and nearly left town right then. One of the conditions for her remaining was for Schnee to ban the practice.

It was torture. It was cruel and unnecessary.

It was what ranchers did to their cattle.

It was exactly why so many Faunus sided with the White Fang.

She was out of breath by the time she rounded the corner to the Faunus district, but the sobs and moans told her it was too late. Three young Faunus were shackled near the branding chair, though one was unconscious. On each of them, on one cheek, the letters _SDC _had been burned into their flesh, raw and angry and red. The iron itself, its grisly job done, had been shoved back into the coals.

The youngest couldn’t have been older than twelve. Even though he was still gagged, he sobbed, one shaking hand hovering over his branded cheek. He was so scrawny that it was a wonder his little bony face could even fit the length of the letters. He angled his face oddly, perhaps trying to keep his tears from landing in the wound.

As she strode closer, eyes blazing, the area had the nauseating smell of cooked meat.

The crowd parted before her. It wasn’t just Faunus; humans, too, had been there to watch. How many of them had come directly here from her demonstration?

And why hadn’t she _known_ about this?

Wordlessly, she stepped onto the platform, gritting her teeth so hard that it felt her teeth might shatter. She looked from the newly-branded Faunus to the man by the fire. The foreman. He paled as Yang stared him down, stepping back as she came closer.

“What the _fuck_ have you done?” she asked lowly. Already, many of the humans in the crowd were slipping away from the scene. It might have been from shame, but it was probably more from fear. They didn’t often see Yang angry, and none of them wanted to. “Branding’s outlawed.”

“I--” he began, but she seized him by the collar. He was a skinny man, and it didn’t require a lot of force to pull him close. Her red eyes burned into his.

“Did you really think you could pull a fast one on me?” she asked dangerously, drawing out a gun. His eyes widened as she held it in front of his face. “We don’t do that ‘round here. Do you think you’re above the sheriff?”

“I-- I--” he stammered, but she cut him off as she shoved the muzzle into his mouth, feeling the way it knocked against his teeth. He began to moan, and thrash, but Yang didn’t pull it out or loosen her grip. She leaned in, continuing to hold his eyes.

“You waited for when I was busy,” she said, voice oddly steady. “You waited till I was busy so you could break the law. Well, I’m here now.” She angled the gun a little deeper into his mouth. Tears streamed down his face, fogging up his glasses as he started to gag. “Tell me. How does my gun taste?”

“_Yang_!” a voice gasped. Yang whipped her head around, her dark stare immediately landing on Blake. She hadn’t realized Blake had even followed her here. She was staring right back, golden eyes wide. There was no fear there; there was only disbelief, and warning. She shook her head slowly.

Meeting those eyes sent a jolt through Yang’s body. It had almost been like she’d forgotten where she was; she was in the middle of the square, surrounded by frightened, panicked, hurt people. Faunus children were staring up at her with round eyes. And the way Blake was looking at her...

Gods, what was she _doing_?

Disgusted, she pulled her gun out of the man’s mouth and gave him a shove. Dazed, he stumbled, backing as far away from her as he could get.

“What makes you think you had the right?” she hissed.

“I gave it to him.”

All eyes whirled to the edge of the crowd, where Jacques Schnee was hurrying over with Luke and Henry at his heels. Upon recognition, many of the Faunus in the crowd scurried away, not wanting to be noticed. Yang’s scowl deepened.

“You gave him the right,” she clarified, anger building again, “to brand them?”

“I did.” He met her glare determinedly. “And I knew you’d have a problem with it, so I scheduled it for when I knew you’d be busy with your… _fans_. See? You didn’t even have to watch.” 

Fury consumed her again as she hopped down from the platform. Fury with him, for sneaking around her back. Fury with herself, for missing the signs. Fury with herself, for being too caught up in impressing a girl to pay attention to those who _truly _needed her. “Why?” she asked, deadly quiet, when she stopped before him.

Schnee gave a dignified sniff. “After what the White Fang did to that train, the people want to see consequences.”

“And these people had _nothing_ to do with it,” she snapped. “And that one’s a _kid_.”

“It sends a message. That we will _not_ tolerate criminal activity.”

“They didn’t hurt anyone. They ran away!”

Their gazes locked, the tension between them thick and suffocating. Yang was uncomfortably aware of the gathering sweat in the band of her hat and on the bandana around her neck, but she didn’t move a muscle. This was just another kind of showdown, and Yang didn’t lose those.

As she expected, he broke first with a displeased huff. “You will not threaten my staff again,” he told her, almost formally. “If you would like to discuss my recent decision on this subject, we may do so in private.”

At his last words, he cast a slow glance among the lingering Faunus. This sent them scattering, leaving only a few to assist with the branded ones. Yang glowered at his back, fists and jaw clenched.

“Unshackle them,” she ordered, turning back to the foreman, who was looking around wildly, like he wanted to be anywhere but on that platform.

“But I--”

“They’ve paid their dues. They’ve suffered enough.” She fixed him with a scowl, and he froze. “Now.”

Fumbling with a ring of keys, he darted over, hastily cramming them into the locks. In the crowd, one of the Faunus stepped forward nervously. There were no doctors among the Faunus, but she recognized him as someone who often tended to the injured. She gave him a nod.

“Take care of them,” she told him quietly. She swallowed an apology; she’d caused enough harm already. Disagreeing with Schnee so publicly was bad enough. Apologizing would make that divide worse. Without looking back, she left the square.

Schnee had _planned _this, she thought dully. He’d counted on her ego, knowing she’d be too self-absorbed to focus on anything but herself. If she’d only paid attention, maybe she would’ve wondered more about the lack of Faunus in the crowd, or that nobody had come to her that morning to demand retribution. With all the talk of _an eye for an eye _over the past few days, she should have noticed when nobody spoke about it this morning.

Had the whole town been in on this? Or had they just assumed that she’d known? She almost didn’t want to know.

“Yang!” someone called. Abruptly, Yang came to a halt and she spun on her heel, coming face-to-face with Blake.

“Can I help you?” she asked stiffly.

“Are you okay?”

Just that morning, Yang might have preened in Blake’s concern for her well-being. Now, though, she only shrugged.

“I’m good.”

“You nearly killed someone,” Blake pointed out, eyebrows crinkling with a frown.

“I’ve killed before.”

“So I’ve heard.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Yang hardening her heart. She’d done enough damage today, and she was ashamed that Blake had been a witness to all of it, both the things she had and hadn’t done. 

She couldn’t get it out of her mind, the way Blake had looked when she’d called Yang out from the crowd.

“I need to get my ammo,” she told her, as if it mattered. “I left it.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No.” Yang crossed her arms, trying to imbue as much authority into her words as she could muster. “I got this.”

“And what’s the harm of me coming with you?” Blake asked.

_Everything_, Yang wanted to say, but she didn’t. Instead, she replied, “I can do it on my own.”

“You don’t have to.” Blake took a step forward. “None of that was your fault.”

Yang scoffed, and the force of her eyeroll nearly hurt. “I’m gonna get my ammo,” she repeated, stepping back. “And then I’ve got work to do.”

“Yang,” Blake said, softening, then paused, as if unsure of what to say next. “I… _know_ you had nothing to do with that.” An odd look crossed over her face, like it was a struggle to say those words at all. “You... tried to help.”

“If I’d tried to help,” Yang told her firmly, “it wouldn’t’ve happened at all.”

“Yang--”

“I’m done here.” Angrily, Yang turned on her heel and strode away.

She felt Blake’s eyes on her until she rounded the corner.

\--

All told, it was probably a miracle Yang hadn’t been fired for the stunt in the Faunus quarter.

Weiss went so far as to voice that very thing the next day, sighing over a batch of paperwork. Often, it came down to her to sort through the mess of paperwork that came with such a large business, though she’d recently had to put it all aside to deal with the daunting task of working through the autotrain’s manifest. She had taken a precious moment, however, to call Yang to her office to hand her a formal complaint.

“If it was anybody else,” she told Yang with a pointed look, “they probably would’ve been run out of town.”

“And after seeing the shit your dad pulls, I almost wish I would be,” Yang grumbled, looking over the paper she’d been handed. The complaint had been lodged against her by the foreman she’d threatened, so it wasn’t really a surprise. “I mean, what’s the point of even having me around if he’s just gonna go around my back and do his own thing anyway?”

“People feel safer with you, for gods-know-what-reason,” Weiss replied boredly, taking the sheet of paper after Yang slid it back to her. “They feel _protected _knowing a trigger-happy idiot is sheriff. But you really need to get your temper under control. I don’t know how much more father will tolerate.”

“Thanks for the confidence, darlin’.”

She had half a mind to throw in the towel completely. Revoking branding had been one of her conditions of remaining in the town at all, but then Schnee went and stomped on it, just as he did so many things. He continued to insist it was the right move, to sate the tempers of the people who had lost family in that White Fang attack.

Schnee was the sort of man who wouldn’t listen to any other opinion when his mind was made up. Yang’s arguments fell on deaf ears, and for all her threats, she felt too invested in the town now to just up and leave. Once again, Schnee had won.

She couldn’t bring herself to face Blake afterward, either. She’d wanted the woman to be able to trust her, but how could she do that now? After seeing Yang fail so miserably and lose her temper in the aftermath of the branding, she wasn’t sure she could even trust herself. It was too shameful a memory. It was better to lie low for a while.

She did hear that Blake had taken a job with Jaune, though, which she was heartened by. At least she’d be treated well there, and could make a living for herself. Yang made a point of avoiding his saloon, not wanting to have to face her there. Even when they passed each other in town, she tried to look away, even when she felt those unsettling eyes on her. It was for the best, Yang decided. This way, it was easier to pretend that all was well with the world.

Still… when she went to sleep at night, Blake was always the last thing on her mind before she drifted off to sleep.

This too, she hoped, would fade.

\--

“Hi, Yang!” With an eyebrow cocked, Yang looked up from her desk to see the wide, toothy grin of a girl named Paisley. She came with one of the earlier settler families to Mantle, and in just that short span of time, she’d lost any trace of city inflection in her voice. She was a western girl now. “I’ve got a message for ya.”

“Shoot,” Yang said, leaning back in her chair, lips quirking into a smile.

“It’s from Miss Schnee. She’s in her office right now, and wanted me to tell you that she needs you over there.”

“Did she say what for?”

“Nope, but she said it ain’t an emergency. Do I get a coin now?” Paisley was a sly thing; Yang knew damned well that Weiss would have paid her in advance, but she pulled out a silver lien anyway and tossed it to the girl.

“Thanks, sweetheart. I’m just wrapping up, so I’ll go over now.”

“Are there any other messages you need me to run?” Paisley asked boldly, and Yang snorted. This was a girl who liked the weight of coin in her purse, and she knew Yang was generous.

“Can’t say I do, but if I think of any, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Thanks, Yang.” The girl beamed, then scampered out of her office.

Weiss didn’t often call on Yang, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in trouble again. She knew she was already on thin ice after the incident in the Faunus quarter, but couldn’t think of any other trouble she might have caused in the past week. With any luck, what Weiss wanted would be nothing more than simple paperwork.

For all the pretending that everything was fine, Yang had tried to distance herself a little more from Schnee. She was still furious with him, and she knew he was with her, only speaking to each other when strictly necessary. Maintaining the image of a united front was difficult in times like this, but for the good of the town, Yang would do what needed to be done. Any turmoil would attract Grimm, which was the last thing she wanted to deal with.

She tried to iron out her mood for Weiss’s sake, though it was difficult. She feigned good cheer when Klein greeted her at the door, offering her a chilled tea as he led her to Weiss’s office. He must have been expecting her, which didn’t surprise Yang. Weiss was nothing if not fastidious, and would have let him know about her impending arrival. Still, she declined the tea. She had no desire to stay longer than she had to, despite the pleasant temperature of the manor.

“That was quick,” Weiss remarked as Yang stepped in. Her office was large, filled with books and cabinet drawers, but none of the useless pretty things that her father was so fond of. Aside from the quality of the fabric her dresses were made with, she didn’t dress like a rich lady, either. Weiss Schnee wasn’t the type to flaunt her wealth, and for that alone, Yang could respect her. She nodded at the seat in front of her desk. “Take a seat.”

“Whatcha need? I’m a busy woman, y’know.”

“Would it kill you to be polite for a change?” Weiss replied grumpily, pushing a small stack of paper in front of her. “I need your help with something.”

“Mmm, paperwork.” Yang made a face, and Weiss rolled her eyes. 

“I’ve been looking over the manifest for that autotrain,” she explained, gesturing to the stack of paper. The manifest, Yang could see now. On it, the names of the passengers were listed in alphabetical order. Some had been neatly crossed out with one line, others were circled. Addresses were scribbled onto the margins. Yang grimaced. “I’ve been coordinating with the mayor’s office over in Argus,” Weiss went on. “Trying to locate the families of the victims and let them know what happened.”

“Shit.” Yang furrowed her brows. “Sounds like an awful job.”

“Tell me about it.” Weiss sighed as she came around the desk. She leaned over, drawing a pale finger down the list of names. “I’ve been over this list so many times that I’ve almost got it memorized. I’ve been radioing Argus every day, trying to cross-check the names of the people with their own records. It’s been tedious, but we’re just about done. Some of these people had transferred from Atlas, so I’ve been radioing them, as well.”

“Do they need a report? I can get copies made.” 

“No. I actually wanted to check with you about something,” she said slowly. Weiss would never sound uncertain, but this was close. “I… know you’re friendly with Blake Belladonna. Is that correct?”

“I guess you could say that.” Not that they’d spoken for a week. “What about?”

“I’d like for you to speak with her.” Weiss paused. “It’s probably nothing… but her name isn’t on the manifest.”

“What?” Yang frowned, not comprehending.

“I told you, I’ve been over this list _many_ times.” Weiss walked back around the desk, letting Yang pick up the paper to skim the names. “And there’s no Blake Belladonna on it.”

“That… can’t be right,” Yang said, eyebrows creasing together as she ran through the list. Even though the manifest was in alphabetical order, and even though there was no _Belladonna_ listed in the B section, she continued to scan it vainly. “Maybe… maybe she has a different last name?”

“I thought of that, too. There’s nobody with the name _Blake_. Then I looked over everyone’s first names, to see if maybe Blake could’ve been a nickname for someone… but there’s nothing. And everyone else has been accounted for, so you can probably see my confusion.”

Yang read down the list blankly. Then she read them again. Sure enough, there was no Blake Belladonna.

“This… is odd,” she finally admitted after a moment. She set the papers back down. “What does that mean?”

“I was hoping you could figure that out for me.” Weiss sat back in her chair, still managing to look prim. She tossed her head, her long white braid settling over her shoulder. “I didn’t want to bring this to my father. As I said, I’m sure there’s a logical explanation, and there’s no need to get him involved.”

“Sounds about right.” Schnee would want answers, not more questions. “So, what do you need me to do?”

“Ask her about it.” Weiss nodded to the manifest. “You’re friendly with her. Get me the answers so I can put an end to this mess. I just want to be done.”

Yang blew out an exhale, then nodded slowly. “I can do that.”

She didn’t relish the idea of talking with Blake again, but what could she do? It would be better if it was Yang that she talked to rather than Jacques. She remembered the disdain in her voice when she’d told Yang that she had turned down his money. It would be kinder to talk with Blake herself, she reasoned. 

And, like Weiss had said… it was probably nothing.

She found Paisley on her way back to the town hall. Like other kids, she spent a great deal of time in the dusty streets, pestering adults for messages to deliver. As soon as Yang approached, her freckled face lit up.

“I’d like you to find Blake Belladonna,” she instructed, handing the girl a silver lien. “She’s probably either at Crocea Mors or the inn. Tell her to come to my office when she gets a chance. It’s not an emergency.”

Paisley crammed the coin in her pouch and gave Yang a salute. “On it, boss!”

She couldn’t help a smile as the girl took off. If only everyone in town was so earnest.

Maybe Blake was using an alias, she considered. It wasn’t totally unreasonable that some people wanted a completely fresh start, name included. Yang could see the appeal of reinventing ones’ self. Maybe that was it. But that wouldn’t have explained how everyone else had been accounted for.

She didn’t like it.

It was a short while later that there was a sharp knock on her office door. Yang had hung her hat and her holsters on the coat rack, but the lessened weight offered little relief against the stale, hot air. She wiped her forehead with her bandana.

“Come in!” she called, hopping out of her seat. She’d tried to study the manifest one more time, but it still yielded no answers. It was just as puzzling as it had been in Weiss’s office.

Blake looked wary when she opened the door, held off in the way she had when Yang had first found her on that train. After a week of silence, Yang supposed she had a right to wariness. “You asked to see me?”

“Yeah.” Yang gestured to the empty chair in front of your desk. “Take a seat.”

After giving her an appraising, suspicious glance, Blake sat down. She sat so primly, back straight and on the edge of her seat, like she was prepared to jump back up if the need arose.

“Are you done ignoring me, then?” she asked, with the patience of a school marm. Yang scowled.

“I wasn’t _ignoring_ you.”

“You wouldn’t even say hello to me in the street.” Her smile didn’t meet her eyes.

“I wasn’t--” Yang protested, then stopped herself. She _had _been ignoring Blake. “It wasn’t… about ignoring you,” she told her, hating the awkwardness of her tone and her words. “I just… after what happened last week…”

“I figured,” Blake remarked. She sighed, then relaxed in the chair just the slightest bit. “I’m not sure about what _specifically_, but I can connect the dots.”

Yang shrugged, trying to dismiss the topic. Already, they were so far off track in a direction she had no desire to be in. “Anyway, that’s not why I--”

“Yang,” Blake pressed, and _gods_, why couldn’t Yang pull away from that gaze? She wondered if this was what hypnosis felt like. “You know what happened wasn’t your fault, right?”

“I’m not talking about that,” Yang snapped, pushing her chair back, trying to break that hypnosis through action. “Now drop it.”

Blake held up her hands in surrender, but the topic still hung between them, heavy and unspoken. For a moment, Yang was at a loss with the new silence. She wasn’t going to list off the reasons _why_ the branding was her own fault. She wasn’t about to admit to her own guilt, or shame, or frustration. Nor could she admit how upset she still was about the situation.

But from the way Blake looked at her, expression softening in something akin to sympathy, Yang had to wonder if she could sense that already.

Time to change the subject.

“I actually had something I wanted to ask you about,” Yang mumbled, scooting closer in order to push the manifest in front of Blake. With a frown, Blake took the papers.

“What is this?”

“The manifest.”

Immediately, Yang knew something wasn’t right. Gunslingers always kept an eye on body language, and though subtle, Blake’s was telling. She tensed slightly, and though her expression didn’t change, her pupils expanded with… fear? Adrenaline? Anxiety?

“What manifest?” she asked delicately.

“For the autotrain.” Yang inclined her head to the papers that Blake didn’t waste time on even looking at. “It’s a list of all the passengers.”

“How… interesting,” she replied, still in that fragile tone.

“Weiss-- Weiss Schnee-- she’s been going through it. Trying to identify the victims, locate their families,” Yang said casually, rising from her chair. She didn’t know if Blake would try to run, but she certainly looked ready to spring up. It would be wise to put herself between her and that door. “She found something pretty interesting, though. Or, maybe _not _found would be more accurate.”

“What are you talking about?” Blake asked evenly, head swiveling in the direction of Yang’s strides. If she noticed what Yang was doing, she didn’t react.

“Your name wasn’t on that list, Blake.”

There was no leaping up, no loud protests, no denials. Blake only sat, unblinking. Yang _did _notice the rise and fall of her chest, though, and how it began to increase just a little.

“Then there must have been a mistake.”

“I’m sure there was.” Yang leaned against the door, still so _casual_, pretending her nerves weren’t standing on edge, that she wasn’t internally preparing herself for whatever was going to happen next. “Like you being on that train in the first place?”

Yang could practically _hear _the spinning of Blake’s thoughts, like the cylinders in her revolvers. For all her outward calm, Yang could feel the storm.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, tone frosty as she stood up. Did she really think Yang would just let her go? “Someone clearly messed up.”

“And you’re lying.”

“Pardon?”

Dancing around it would get nowhere, and she had a feeling Blake would have her dancing all day. Sometimes, one just needed to be direct.

“I think… you snuck on board that train,” Yang told her softly, stepping forward. “That’s why your name wasn’t on the manifest. You didn’t have a ticket.”

Blake was short enough that she had to look up to meet Yang’s eyes. “And why would I do a thing like that?”

Though Yang managed a small smile, it wasn’t the playful kind. It was a challenge. “You tell me.”

For a moment, Blake said nothing, and Yang was almost positive she would have tried to push Yang out of the way of the door, to get out of the office, or maybe even out of the town. Yang even prepared herself, shifting her weight in preparation to grab. Blake’s eyes flickered toward the door.

At last, Blake spoke, voice tight. “What if… I did?”

“Did what?”

Blake licked her lips. “If I… snuck onto the train.”

Yang leaned back against the door, trying to appear relaxed. “I’d want to know why,” she replied, folding her arms. “Schnee’s trying to move people out here. If you had enough coin to turn down his money and pay for an inn yourself, you could’ve afforded a train ticket. He’s made it so they’re not _that _expensive.”

Slowly, Blake gave a nod.

“It’s against the law to travel on a train without a ticket,” Yang added. “But… if you had a good enough reason, I can be... discreet.”

“And what if I didn’t?” Blake’s breathing began to quicken. “Would you arrest me?”

“It would depend.” Yang raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I _need _to arrest you?”

She’d said it to try and get a laugh out of Blake, but she didn’t. The hard look on her face made Yang’s stomach drop just a little. Just what had this woman done?

“Blake,” she said. “What were you doin’ on that train?”

Blake wore the conflict heavily on her face, all pretense of denial seemingly forgotten. It was only then that she looked away, staring out the window as she seemed to organize her thoughts. Yang gave her that chance to think.

“It… was illegal,” she admitted after a painful moment. “But I… Yang.” She looked back up, a quiet plea etched onto her features. “You… I know you’re not… _bad_.”

That wasn’t what Yang expected to hear. She only stared, confused.

“After… After what happened last week. With… the branding. I know you didn’t like that.”

A blush crept into Yang’s cheeks. “This isn’t--”

“Wait.” Blake held up a hand, looking even more nervous. “And at the saloon… I heard about what happened at that forum. The day after you… found me. You tried to protect the... You stopped a riot.”

“And?”

“_And_.” Blake took a slow breath. “Maybe all of that means… maybe you can help me.”

Yang cocked her head in a silent urge to continue.

Blake reached a hand up to her hair, then hesitated. “I… I’d rather not anyone find out about this. I came here for a better life, and if anyone else knew…” She bit her lip. “I wouldn’t get that.”

“It depends what kind of secret you’re askin’ me to keep. If you’ve killed someone…”

“I’ve never killed anyone,” Blake told her flatly. She stared at the floor, defeated. “And I hope I never do. This is… different.”

She took a deep breath, then fiddled with her bow. She found the end, and pulled it slowly.

At first, Yang had to wonder how well that ribbon had been tied; for one stupid second, she didn’t even notice a difference as the ribbon snaked away in Blake’s hands. And then…

“_Oh_.” She watched, disbelieving, as a set of cat ears twitched free. Nervously, Blake rubbed at one of them. Keeping ears like that wrapped up in a bow couldn’t have been comfortable, Yang thought. She wondered if they were cramped. “You… You’re a Faunus.”

The last word was spoken in a low voice, in case anyone passed by her office door right at that minute. Yang stepped forward, within inches of Blake, to get a better look at them.

She should have felt some twinge of disgust. The gods had cursed the Faunus with animal traits to remind them of their lesser blood, to remind the world of how these sinners were less than human. _Little better than animals_, preachers would scoff.

And yet…

Blake’s ears flattened against her head, though Yang couldn’t have said if it was from anxiety, or shame, or humiliation. She fought against the urge to reach out and touch them. That would have felt too intimate. Blake drew back, crossing her arms tightly over herself, anticipating Yang’s judgement.

“You couldn’t get a ticket at all,” Yang said, piecing the story together on her own. “That’s why you snuck on board.”

Faunus weren’t allowed on autotrains, after all. 

“Not such a _pretty girl_ after all, right?” Blake asked, almost jokingly, but there was deep bitterness lacing her tone.

Haltingly, Yang reached out a hand, setting it on Blake’s arm. Though Blake jerked back slightly, she didn’t push Yang away. Instead, she then looked up, both of them searching the other’s face for _something_\-- a sign, a clue-- of what the other was thinking. 

“Ears…” Yang said, then hesitated. Was that the right word to say? Was it rude? Was there a different word she should use for them? She swallowed. It could be something she could learn. She wanted-- _needed_\-- to finish her thought. “They don’t make you any less beautiful.”

Blake’s cheeks darkened, and Yang was nearly overcome by the wave of protection she felt for her. If word got out about this, there would be hell to pay. She considered herself lucky to be somewhat worldly; in the north, she had met Faunus who lived their lives just as any human might, with a career, a family, and friends of all races. She knew Faunus weren’t cursed by the gods.

But here… the branded cheeks, the lynchings, the violence, all came to mind, and Yang’s sense of protectiveness was drowned out by shame. Blake had seen her at her most useless, most powerless. She could have all the best intentions in the world, but it would mean nothing in a town like Mantle. She’d been worthless to the other Faunus.

And Blake was playing a dangerous game.

“I won’t tell anyone.” The promise was out before she had a chance to mull it over. She didn’t _need_ to mull it over. She breathed out a long breath. “_Shit_.”

“I… I hoped you wouldn’t.” She cast her eyes to the floor, breaths coming out rapid and shallow. “After… After seeing how you were… About the Faunus… I know you can’t _hate_ us like that. You don’t want us to get hurt, or anything. So I figured… hoped… that maybe you wouldn’t tell.”

Though she kept her body tensed as she spoke, she did relax the slightest bit into Yang’s hand, perhaps unconsciously.

“It’s okay,” Yang told her softly. She brushed her thumb against Blake’s arm comfortingly. “I won’t.”

The silence was filled with slower breaths of Blake’s breathing. Calmer, she loosened a little into Yang’s touch, her stiff muscles relaxing beneath Yang’s fingers as the seconds passed. Though sweat was beginning to bead on her forehead, Yang didn’t dare let go to reach for her bandana. This moment was too fragile to disturb.

“Okay,” Blake said at last, more softly. Still, she didn’t move. “What… What are you going to tell Miss… Schnee?”

It was cute, her uncertainty. While Yang could get away with using Weiss’s first name, Blake wouldn’t have been able to. At least, not to Weiss’s face. In private, things could be a little different.

Maybe everything could be different in private.

“I’ll take care of her,” Yang replied reassuringly. “I’ll tell her that I’ve got it handled, and to trust me on it. I’m sheriff. She can’t really question me.”

“Oh?” A ghost of a smile flitted across Blake’s face. “So sheriffs are allowed to get away with their own rulebreaking, too?”

“I guess you could say that.” Yang laughed nervously, remembering Weiss’s warning about her temper. “I try not to abuse that privilege.”

Regretfully, she released Blake’s arm. She didn’t have much of an excuse to keep holding on to it, now that Blake seemed to have calmed down. Now, at least, Yang could pull out her bandana to wipe at the sweat. With the door closed, her office was so stuffy.

“Everything else going okay?” Yang asked, walking back around her desk. She felt oddly jittery, as if the physical contact with Blake had shot Lightning Dust into her veins. “Jaune treating you right?”

“He’s definitely more… personable than Mercury.” At the look on Blake’s face, Yang let out a bark of laughter.

“A _cow_ is more personable than Mercury.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say it.”

Yang snorted. Though it had been a week since they’d spoken, they slipped so easily back into a friendly rhythm. It was nice. It had to mean something. “Making friends?”

“I’m getting to know some people.” She hesitated. “It’s… different. Being treated like a human.” Another pause. “I wouldn’t have expected someone like you to be… okay with this.”

She didn’t need to spell out what _this _meant.

“I’ve never had a problem with the Faunus,” Yang told her, truthfully. “It’s not like we were religious growing up or anything, so we didn’t have any preachers or anyone telling us how bad y’all are. And back when I drove cattle, we’d spend some time in the city, and the Faunus there never seemed any different than us. They were just people, with extra parts.”

“People with extra parts,” Blake repeated, a pretty smile blooming across her face. “That’s… interesting.”

“There was another fella I used to drive with who had an extra toe on each foot,” Yang offered helpfully, “but nobody was out there, trying to force him into the mines. Or--”

_Brand him_, Yang almost said, and she could _feel_ how her face dropped, how her stomach clenched. How did Blake think of her, for not stopping that branding? They weren’t just simple laborers anymore. They were Blake’s people, and Yang had done nothing to stop that branding from happening.

Worse, Blake had seen her just accept defeat, and let things go on without consequence.

“Yang?”

“I…” Yang sucked her lower lip between her teeth. Already, she’d let her down, even without knowing her secret. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re a pretty bad liar,” Blake pointed out, and Yang forced a smile.

“It’s nothing. Really.”

Blake gave her a long, searching look, then nodded slowly. “The other day… you told me, if there’s anything I can help you with, that you’d help me.” She offered up a small smile. “That goes back for you, all right?”

Yang chuckled. “Y’know what this means, right?” she asked. Blake raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“This is trust.” Yang’s smile grew by a fraction as she saw the surprise on Blake’s face. Had she not made that connection? By way of explanation, Yang went on, “You trusted me with your secret. So, maybe you do trust, after all.”

Blake shot her a frown as she began to wrap her ears back up in her ribbon. “I wouldn’t say _trust_.”

“So what _would _you say?”

“I’d say it’s me having no other choice but to--” Blake grimaced, and Yang had a feeling that _trust_ was the word she’d been about to say. “--tell you,” she finished.

With her ears tied back up, Yang _knew_ it couldn’t have been comfortable. Wrapped up so stiffly, pulled into an awkward angle, and held in place, they had to be hot and cramped. Yet she hadn’t complained about it once.

“You don’t… have to wear that with me,” Yang offered, hating how awkward she sounded. Blake smiled weakly.

“If you didn’t ignore me, and we actually talked once in a while, maybe I’d take you up on that.”

The heat that surged into Yang’s face was obvious enough to make Blake chuckle. “I didn’t-- I won’t-- I mean, I’m… I’m not gonna ignore you. Especially now.” She winced. That sounded wrong. “I mean, not in a _weird_ way. I just mean--”

“Yang,” Blake interrupted, smiling more broadly than Yang had seen yet, “It’s okay.” She paused, then added, “Gotta say… I think I like flustered Yang more than cocky Yang.”

Yang wondered just how red her face was. She looked away, trying not to focus on her own embarrassment. “Shut up.”

But then Blake laughed, a sweet sound that made Yang’s heart pound. With that, Yang could almost forget about being embarrassed.

“I… should probably get back to work,” Blake said. “But… maybe I’ll run into you in the saloon sometime.”

“Yeah.” Yang looked back up, managing a smile. “I’d like that.”

Blake turned, put a hand on the doorknob, then stopped. She frowned, and Yang raised an expectant eyebrow.

“Something wrong?”

“It’s…” Blake pressed her lips into a tight line, thinking. She shook her head. “Just… thank you,” she said so lamely, that Yang was positive that wasn’t what she’d meant to say. But then Blake went on, and closed off the chance to question it. “I didn’t think anyone in Mantle would be… good. Like you.”

“Me. Good.” Yang snorted. “You just haven’t gotten a chance to know me yet.”

“Well… I’m looking forward to it.” Blake had found her smile again. She opened the door, gave Yang a wink, and left.

Yang could only stare after her, gaping.


	3. Chapter 3

As expected, Weiss wasn’t pleased at Yang’s explanation.

“Just trust me,” Yang told her, leaning back in her chair and kicking her legs onto Weiss’s desk. “It’s nothing.”

“Okay, first of all, if you don’t get your boots off my desk, we’re going to have a problem,” Weiss told her sternly, glaring. “And second, if it’s _nothing_, why can’t you tell me what it is?”

Yang sighed dramatically and pulled her legs down. “It’s personal.”

“What could be personal about not being on an autotrain manifest?”

“Gods, can’t you just trust me for once? Your dad gets away with shit--”

“Because Father practically owns this town. You’re just on his payroll.” Weiss huffed at Yang’s affronted glower. “Please. Don’t act like that’s news to you.”

“He hired me because _he_, at least, trusts me.”

“And he trusts _me_ to keep his employees in line.”

For a moment, the two women stared each other down, each holding it hard. It was only during staring matches like this that the weakness in Weiss’s left eye became apparent, in the way it didn’t focus quite right on Yang. It was something Weiss had never explained, and something Jacques had only hinted it.

_Some lessons come at a hefty price, as my daughter found out, _he’d told Yang once as he walked her around town. _But it taught her more than anything she could’ve learned in a school, and she’s a better businesswoman for it._

Yang hadn’t dared press him for details. She hadn’t liked the way he’d chuckled.

Weiss broke the stare with an eyeroll. “Fine. I’ll let you have this one, but this will _not_ become a habit. Agreed?”

“Have I let you down yet?” Yang asked with a wide shrug. Weiss scowled. “Actually,” Yang amended, “you don’t need to answer that.”

“Well, at least this closes the book on the train,” Weiss replied grudgingly. “Two hundred people.” She shook her head. “The White Fang is getting worse.”

“They’re not going to be happy about the branding, either,” Yang pointed out. “How Jacques thinks it’s a good idea--”

“At least it’s solving the problem with the townsfolk.” Weiss shrugged. “There haven’t been any killings, right?”

“No,” Yang admitted. “But--”

“And fewer angry townsfolk mean no Grimm,” she went on. “I mean, it’s not good for the Faunus, but you can’t say it doesn’t have some positives.”

“Permanently ruining their faces?” Yang struggled to keep her temper down. “That kid actually stands a chance of getting out of the mines someday, but he’s going to have to live with that mark forever. It ain’t right.”

“I’m not saying it is,” Weiss replied. “But I’m trying to point out how it’s helped.”

“And when the White Fang strikes again, you can remind me of that.” Yang pushed herself to her feet and jammed her hat back on over her thick hair. “If that’s all, I’ve got some business to take care of.”

Maybe it was being let into Blake’s secret that made Weiss’s words sit more sourly in Yang’s stomach than usual. She’d known Weiss was her father’s daughter, a product of her family and all the prejudices it came with. For all her seeming neutrality on the subject of Faunus, of course she’d ultimately see them as little more than property. If branding was what it took to calm down angry townsfolk, she would see it as a necessary sacrifice.

It would be so easy for her to forget that Faunus were more human than the townsfolk gave them credit for. After all, how easy had it been for Blake to simply tie her ears into a bow and fit right in? 

Nobody knew. Nobody suspected.

But it was all Yang could see. Every time she ran into Blake at Crocea Mors, she began to worry: what if the ribbon came untied? What if someone noticed?

“You don’t need to keep worrying,” Blake murmured to her one night. The weeknights were slower, and Blake’s break found them alone together at Yang’s table. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“I don’t worry,” Yang protested, earning a low chuckle from Blake.

“Your twitchiness is a lot more suspicious than my bow ever is. So knock it off.”

Yang had flushed, but tried to tone it down a notch after that. She could see how easily Blake was fitting in with the other saloon workers; while not as bubbly as Nora or as gracious as Pyrrha, Blake did find a place for herself. She made pleasant smalltalk with the customers and caused no trouble, which sometimes was a challenge in itself. On Friday and Saturday nights, the saloons were bound to be bustling, and things could get rowdy. Yet Blake held her own, being firm with the pushy ones and listening to the ones who rambled.

It was easier to relax, seeing firsthand how well Blake was getting on.

“You’re pathetic,” Nora told Yang one day, grinning, when Blake was out of earshot. “You never used to come in so much.”

“Maybe y’all just drive me to drink more than you used to,” Yang replied with a bored shrug. She took a sip of her beer, as if to make a point.

“And it has nothin’ to do with the new girl, hm?”

“Not a thing.”

It wasn’t like Yang went to Crocea Mors every night; she didn’t want to come off too strongly. She already worried it was too much, but whenever she pushed through the swinging doors of the saloon, Blake would look up with that small smile on her face, and Yang knew her worries were for nothing.

One night, when Yang walked in, Blake’s usual smile was broken; her lip had been split, and Yang’s heart dropped.

“What happened?” Yang asked before she’d even sat down on her stool.

“What?”

“Your lip.”

“Oh.” Blake’s tongue ran across her lower lip, over the jagged crack. “Tripped going home last night.”

Yang lowered her voice. “So, it isn’t from someone…?”

“No.”

Still, Yang was uneasy with the answer, and she stared at the cut a second longer than was truly necessary. Instinctively, she looked back up at Blake’s bow, where her ears were still safely hidden away. If anyone had found out, she wouldn’t put it past an overly-hateful citizen to punch Blake in the mouth.

But Blake didn’t seem worried, so Yang tried to smother her doubts.

Blake’s gaze softened. “Y’know,” she allowed, “maybe I’d be a little less clumsy if I had someone to walk me home at night.”

“How would that…” Yang began, but Blake interrupted her with a chuckle.

“Yang. Don’t make me ask twice.”

“_Oh_.” Yang’s cheeks tinged pink as she realized the request didn’t really have anything to do with clumsiness. “Oh. Yeah, I could do that.”

How did Blake manage to flip everything on its head? Yang had always considered herself to be so smooth with the ladies, but with Blake, just trying to start a conversation made her feel off-balance. It made no sense, considering that when they did spend time together, their conversations were so _natural_, so easy. They smiled, they talked, and they joked almost like old friends, yet it didn’t stop the flopping in her stomach whenever they locked eyes from across the room. It made no sense, but then again, little did when Blake Belladonna was involved.

Yang Xiao Long never had nerves, but she wondered if that’s what she felt every time she entered the saloon, every time their eyes met, every time she felt that uncertainty of whether or not she’d said or done something wrong.

And every time-- _every _time-- there was that thrill when Blake smiled, or laughed, and Yang realized that whatever she’d said had been just right, after all. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given her that anticipation, that excitement, that relief in resolution.

It was refreshing. It was frightening.

“D’you need me to, like, strap you to my back or something?” Yang joked when Blake got off her shift, as they made their way down the dark streets. They walked slowly, so close to each other that they were nearly touching. Yang wondered if she should offer up her hand as they walked. Just the idea sent a quiver through her stomach. “I could carry you, so you don’t trip again.”

“So thoughtful,” Blake teased.

“That’s not usually the first word anyone’d use to describe me, but I’ll take it.”

“What words _would_ they use?” Blake asked playfully.

“Uh, gorgeous, for one.” Yang grinned. “Brilliant, probably. And maybe _best shooter in Remnant_, but that one’s a given.”

“Arrogant,” Blake added, ticking off her fingers. “Loud.” She paused, giving her a sly look out of the corner of her eye, shadows dancing across the angles of her face. “But maybe I’ll give you that first one.”

“Really?” Yang asked, surprised, feeling herself blush. She’d said it as a joke, to get one of those rare laughs. This was much better, and it made her heart beat just a little faster.

“I’d tell you to not let it go to your head, but I don’t think your head could get any bigger.”

Yang snorted, then threaded her fingers together around the back of her neck, playing it cool. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little confidence.”

“It certainly doesn’t scare people off.” Blake smiled a little. “You should hear the way they talk about you at the saloon. You’re practically a legend.”

“Y’know, if you think I’m arrogant now, telling me this _really _isn’t gonna help.” She dropped her arms back down to her sides, and Blake promptly threaded her own arm through one of them. Somehow, Yang was able to feign a casual demeanor, even as her pulse thundered.

“I mean… they love you. But I thought it was odd that nobody really seems to talk about you as a _person_,” Blake said, clarifying. “Like… you’re on a pedestal. They talk about the things you _do_, not about who you _are_.”

“Ain’t that the same thing?” Yang gave her a puzzled look. “I _am_ what I do.”

“But you’re also someone who used to just… drive cattle,” Blake told her, kicking absently at a pebble. Under the shattered moon, her eyes caught and shone. “Someone who loves her sister and drinks cheap booze. Someone who isn’t just… I don’t know. Someone who does more than just shoot things and play nice with the rich folks.”

“That’s enough for most people.”

“That’s not giving you enough credit.”

“Well, it’s what I’m good at,” Yand said with a shrug. “And, y’know, I don’t know much about you either, so it goes both ways, Belladonna.”

Blake chuckled at the use of her last name. “Well, it makes sense. _I’m_ just a nobody of… questionable heritage.” Even in the semi-darkness, Yang could see the hint of color rise in Blake’s high cheekbones. “So I’ve got an excuse, at least. But you? You’re supposed to be this famous gunslinger, but nobody knows the little things about you.”

“Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know. Your favorite color? The things you do for fun? You’re more of a mystery than you should be.”

“That ain’t the least bit true,” Yang said, laughing. “You’re being dramatic.”

Blake came to a full stop. Eyebrow raised, Yang turned to face her, full of regret when Blake pulled her arm away. It had felt nice, to have Blake on her arm. It had felt _right_. “Well, I could’ve heard stories about your shooting anywhere. People in the saloon just say things I could’ve learned back in Argus. But I… want to know more about who you _really_ are, underneath all that.”

Tentatively, she took the edge of Yang’s vest between her fingers, so close to Yang’s heart, toying with the hem. She looked up, and looking into those eyes felt like looking into eternity, into the golden enormity of the desert. Yang almost forgot to breathe as Blake, still smiling, released her vest and dropped her hand back to her side.

“I like what I’ve seen so far,” she murmured.

And then Yang _did_ forget to breath. She gasped on an inhale, and Blake let out a little laugh, which Yang tried to follow with a weak one of her own. Blake _had _to know what she was doing. It was almost enough to give Yang the push she needed to step forward, to grasp her hand, to lean in…

...but then Blake’s eyes darted to the building they stood in front of, and Yang only then realized that they’d stopped because they were at the inn already.

So she forced herself to take a step back, hoping the darkness would hide the blood that was rushing to her face. But Blake’s smile widened, pulling at the cut on her lip.

Yang tipped her hat. “Then I guess I’ll have to walk you home again, some other time,” she somehow said over the pounding of her heart. “And maybe I can learn a little more about _you_.”

It didn’t come out as smoothly as she would’ve liked (how had she ever considered herself a good flirt?), but Blake nodded. “That… would be nice.”

An odd giddiness descended on Yang as she strode away, only fading away when she collapsed into her bed.

But even her dreams were threaded with gold.

\--

Another day, another problem. Yang had been just about to go home for the night when an excited messenger child rapped at her door, his green eyes wide.

“Cave-in!” he announced the minute he slammed the door open. “Mr. Schnee needs you to meet him at the mines, there’s been a--”

Yang’s curse was so loud that the boy gave a nervous giggle, despite the circumstance of his message. She leapt to her feet, grabbing her gunbelt off its hook and hat off her desk. Trying to put the belt on while running was difficult, and she paused at random intervals to thread it around her waist, hopping along to cinch it tight. The boy followed, seeming both proud at the importance of his message and alarmed by its content.

“They ain’t sure what caused it yet, but they think someone dropped a raw Dust crystal. It blew the whole tunnel up!” He made a loud _ka-pow _sound with his mouth, bursting his fingers out to mimic an explosion.

Yang swore again, picking up her pace now that her belt was on. This was bad, on so many levels.

Mining Dust was a dangerous occupation, and the risk it presented to the Faunus miners was incredible. Its danger was the reason that few humans ever mined it themselves, and the reason why Schnee forced the job on those who had no choice. This wasn’t the first cave-in, or explosion, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

The only question was how many casualties there would be and how the aftermath would look.

His message delivered, the boy fell back. Yang would see to it that he’d get a good tip later, but she had no time for such things now. She raced down the street, following nervous people in the direction of the mine. While most Faunus had been working in that mine, enough were in town that Yang had company as she made her way down the long dirt track. Excited, worried chatter surrounded her, as thick as the dust they kicked up.

“Everyone, keep back!” she called, out of breath, as she reached the entrance. A massive crowd of miners were huddled around it, and it was work to make herself heard in the chaos. “We don’t know how stable the tunnels are right now.”

“It was in the Gigas Tunnel,” one of the nearby Faunus told her, pointing. With antlers on his head, this miner was unable to wear a helmet, and there was dust and grit in his curly hair. “It’s pretty deep, but there were about thirty miners down there.”

Yang cursed, looking through the crowd. Panic was growing, and with panic… “I need y’all to go back to your homes,” she called to the crowd. “Go back to your homes, and stay calm. We’ll bring news when we figure out what’s happened.”

Someone in the crowd was weeping loudly, and it made Yang’s heart hurt. She remembered another day long ago, when she was only a child, anxious and unsure about the fate of her mother; she knew exactly how these Faunus felt. But she needed to disperse the miners, needed to dilute their grief.

They didn’t need Grimm to make this tragedy even worse.

“Ah, Yang, there you are!” Schnee said, waving his cane. Heart sinking, she approached. “Well, this is certainly a problem, isn’t it?”

A _problem_. That probably meant no human lives had been lost in the cave-in. He probably would have been a lot more distressed had that been the case. Even though there were terrified people surrounding them, shouting and sobbing, Schnee only looked annoyed.

“How many were down there?” she asked, already dreading the answer. “Any survivors?”

“Thirty-two Faunus were assigned to that tunnel,” he replied in a clipped tone. “As far as I know, none of them have been recovered.”

“Are we gonna search for survivors?”

“I’m afraid that would be unwise at this time,” he said, sighing. “Our geologists say that the explosion would have generated Dust clouds that might set off more crystals. We’ll need to wait a few days before we can begin our probes.”

“But there are _people_ in there.”

“And there’s nothing we can do,” he snapped. He took a deep breath, then smoothed his immaculate mustache. “Look, Yang. I, more than anyone, am unhappy with this loss of life. But sending in a rescue party would be too dangerous, and in all likelihood, there are no survivors, anyway.”

Yang balled her fists, trying to close her heart to the horrendous thought that anyone had been buried alive. Thirty-two Faunus. Thirty-two _people_. Dead, or as good as.

“Is there nothing we can do?” she asked quietly.

“I’m afraid there is not,” he said, his look of sorrow too exaggerated for sincerity. She wondered if he practiced emotions in front of a mirror. “But by the end of the week, we should be able to start our probes, and hopefully have the mine reopened as soon as we can clear the debris.” He huffed. “It was a new mine, and I’d hate to see it closed prematurely.”

Yang gritted her teeth. “Is there… anything you need from me now?”

“Well,” he said, back to business, “I’ll need you to calm the Faunus and return them to their homes. When we have a better idea about the state of the mine, we can set about getting them back to work. In the meantime, we’ll need to find ways to keep them busy, to--”

“What about the families?” Yang asked, jutting her head to the mine entrance. “Of the… victims. We’ll need to confirm who exactly was in that tunnel.”

“Ah, yes.” Schnee nodded, as if this was an entirely new idea. “I’ll direct Foreman Burr to you as soon as we’re done debriefing. He should have the list.”

Yang opened her mouth, to argue. That list should be the first priority, in order to give worried families some closure-- but she shut it again. With her luck, he’d end up delaying that list even more just for pressing him. Fighting always made things worse.

There would be little she could do to calm the Faunus. There was fear, and worry, and anger. All perfectly justified, but all things that would attract Grimm. Heart heavy, she made her way back into the crowd, lifting her arms for silence. It didn’t stop the tears, but people looked to her. It hurt to see the hope in some of their faces.

“There ain’t much new to tell y’all,” she told them, and saw the hope begin to wink out. “We’re workin’ on getting a list of everyone who was in that tunnel, and I promise, the minute I get it, I’ll give you those names. But for now, there’s nothin’ y’all can do here.”

“My husband was in that tunnel,” a heavily pregnant woman called. Two long ears, like a donkey’s, stood erect and panicked. “Did anyone get out?”

Yang swallowed hard, trying to keep the obvious distress off her face. That was the last thing any of these people needed to see. “At… at this time, there’s been no news of any survivors.”

She had to look away as the woman buried her face in her hands.

Her answers weren’t enough to satisfy the Faunus, and more of them called out requests to find out what happened to a family member, a friend, a spouse. Yang couldn’t bring herself to silence them with her guns, as she had at the forum. These people weren’t hateful. They were just scared.

“I promise, I’ll do everything I can to figure this out,” Yang told them, not for the first time. “But y’all need to go back to your homes.”

And slowly, so slowly, the crowd trickled away. She was nervous when some of the human overseers came by to watch her progress with clearing them out; she wouldn’t have put it past them to try herding the Faunus with their batons like a flock of wayward sheep. But they seemed to realize she had everything under control. After all, she was the world-famous gunslinger. Of course she could handle a few underfed Faunus.

Even with the Faunus cleared out, it was still a few more hours before she was able to leave the mine. Schnee insisted on having her there as he spoke to his colleagues and investors in one of the outbuildings. As a person of some (theoretical) power in town, she found herself stuck at Schnee’s side even after dark fell. Some things-- like the probable cause of the explosion, the number of victims, plans to keep the Faunus busy-- pertained to her, but most of it did not. She shifted her feet uncomfortably as Schnee talked financial losseswith his colleagues, his budget on the particulars of excavating the tunnel, and timelines of reopening various tunnels. When he took out a stack of paper from one of the cabinets, Yang could have groaned out loud.

For such a terrible tragedy, Schnee’s discussion about the effect it would have on his company almost made them forget that lives had been lost at all. To Schnee’s people, the Faunus lives lost were only a number, just another deficit resulting from the cave-in.

When he’d finally dismissed her, it was late enough the air had cooled and the stars sat comfortably in the sky. Yang was able to corner Foreman Burr, who led her to his office to give her the shift schedules. While it listed the names of the people who’d been in that tunnel, she was frustrated to learn that it wasn’t definitive. There may have well been other Faunus near that tunnel when it collapsed, and it would be impossible to know who else was missing without holding a census of all miners.

It made her want to rip her hair out.

In a perfect world, there should have been some sort of way to keep track of when miners moved to different tunnels, a way to have accurate headcounts when disaster struck. But, like the lack of mining helmets for antlered Faunus, it was one of the things Schnee cut corners around. Yang had to wonder about the families; what was it like, to lose hope as the hours passed, not knowing if a family member had been caught in that cave-in?

Finally being able to leave the mine provided little relief.

Yang’s mind was cluttered with dark thoughts as she cut across the scrubby field back into town. She avoided the road, wanting a little time to herself to brood. The mesquite here were plentiful, and Yang dodged the thorned branches with each step. Maybe these thorns were penance, she thought dismally as she brushed a branch aside. It was her price for dealing with the devil, and she just had to pay for it. Maybe she deserved to be poked and scratched and stabbed by the long thorns.

She _felt_ like she deserved it.

There should have been more she could do. She didn’t know enough about the mines to go search inside, and even if she did, she wouldn’t have been able to move the rocks by herself. Though she was certain other Faunus would have been willing to help her, the geologists did know about the volatility of raw Dust. The cave-in would have made the crystals unstable, and they’d probably end up dead in that rescue attempt.

But there should have been more she could do.

A branch ahead of her rustled, and Yang immediately drew her guns. She wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a Grimm, what with the negativity that came with the cave-in. 

Instead, Blake emerged from behind one of the stubby mesquite.

At first, she didn’t even seem to notice Yang. She was rubbing her shoulder, looking almost dazed as she stared off into the night. Yang had never seen her look so distant, so unhappy, amber eyes almost deadened while she lost herself in her own world. Then she turned, and those same eyes widened when she realized she was being watched.

“Yang?” she asked, something akin to dread spilling out of her voice. Sheepishly, Yang holstered her guns.

“Didn’t mean to scare you!” she replied reassuringly, scratching her neck. “Sorry, wasn’t expecting to run into anyone out here.”

“I… uh, me either.”

It was hard to tell in the dark, but Blake’s cheeks seemed bright red. Licking her lips nervously, she looked back over her shoulder, perhaps wondering if Yang had brought a posse or something.

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” Yang asked, brows furrowing as she shoved her hands in her pockets.

“Oh… y’know. Walking,” Blake replied with a shrug, then a grimace. “What about you? How long have you been out here?”

Yang raised an eyebrow. “I’m just passin’ through. I was just at the mines, and, well…” She made a grimace of her own. “I just needed a little… quiet, for a bit.”

“Oh.” A concerned look flashed across Blake’s face. “How is it out there? I heard about the cave-in.”

“It’s a damned mess,” Yang said, trying to keep her words from turning into a groan. She shook her head, staring into one of the mesquite dismally. “Thirty-two presumed dead, though there might be more. All Faunus, of course, and all Schnee’s worried about is when he can open the tunnel back up.”

Blake let out a low whistle. “Shit.”

“That’s what I said.”

The chirruping of crickets filled the air between them as they fell silent. A patch of mesquite on the outskirts of town was a strange place to find each other, and it seemed to have caught both of them off-guard. Yang couldn’t remember feeling quite so awkward around Blake before. It was just another depressing card to stack onto Yang’s awful night. She sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Blake said quietly, straightening out her blouse as she came closer, maneuvering around a thorned branch. “That couldn’t have been easy to deal with.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Yang hadn’t intended to snap at Blake, and she winced at her words as they came out. “I mean… I’m sorry. I just meant that… they’re _your _people. And I’m…”

_Useless to them_, she thought, but couldn’t say it. The thought dried up in her mouth. 

“They’re your people too, though, aren’t they?” Blake asked softly. She gave Yang a sad smile. “You’re just as much their sheriff as you are Schnee’s.”

“And a fat lot of good it’s done them.” Yang took a deep breath, to calm herself, and released it in a harsh puff. “Sorry. It’s... been a long day.”

“It’s okay," Blake murmured, taking a step closer, eyes flicking nervously to her side. And then she was cupping Yang's cheek, her hand cool against the rising temperature of her face. “You’re doing everything you can.”

“But I’m _not_, though.” Yang swallowed, trying to not be too distracted at the contact. Blake's fingers were so soft. “I should… I should be doing more.”

“How?”

“Like… I don’t know.” She shook her head, relieved when Blake didn’t pull her hand away. “If I try to fight Schnee about it, he’ll just replace me with someone who won’t. I just…” She stared down at the ground. “I don’t know what to do sometimes.”

Maybe it was her own weariness that had her spilling out her worries to Blake. Maybe it was the security in knowing Blake’s own secret, that Blake wouldn’t repeat these words to anyone while Yang held her confidence. But it was more than that, and Yang knew it. Something had drawn them together, and it was coaxing her into revealing more of herself, to grow that connection. Blake’s thumb brushed her cheek, expression soft.

She had to have felt it, too.

“I know you’ll do what you can,” Blake replied, only slightly above a whisper. “That’s what you’ve _been _doing, hasn’t it? People respect you here, both human and Faunus. I can _see_ that, Yang. You’re… you’re good.”

She drew in a deep breath, and her eyes flicked to the side. Yang hadn’t seen her look so uncertain since the day in her office, when she’d pulled off her bow and given her that secret. Blake swallowed visibly, then let her hand fall from Yang’s cheek.

“Which is…” she said, her breathiness betraying her nerves. “Why I need to tell you. Yang, I--”

_Clang. Clang. Clang._

Both women jolted to attention, rounding in the direction of the town hall. Blake would have to continue that thought later. Right now, at this time of night, there was only one thing that bell could mean. Yang grabbed Blake’s arm and pulled her closer, eyes flashing red in the dark.

“Get back to my house, it’s closer than the inn,” she instructed in a low voice. “Stay away from the windows, and hide.” She let go, and drew her revolvers from their holsters. “House is unlocked. Just stay quiet, keep out of sight.”

“What’s--” Blake began, but Yang held up one finger, lifting it slowly to her lips in a silencing gesture.

“Grimm.”

She took off running, leaving Blake behind her, branches and thorns pulling at her sleeves as she ran.

The one thing about Grimm was that they were easy to find. Wherever a Grimm went, chaos and panic were sure to follow. All Yang had to do was follow the telltale screams.

The closer she got, the more people raced past her in the opposite direction. They were the smart ones. It would be the ones who froze, the ones who screamed, who would be the first targeted by the shadow creatures. Everyone knew better, of course, but when face-to-face with a Grimm, common sense was often thrown to the wayside. 

And really, the small swarm of Grimm in the street weren’t the worst she’d ever seen. They were nothing compared to the Goliath herd that had taken her mother from her, but even a small Grimm could be deadly to the untrained, the fearful, and the small. Desert Grimm often had more armor and sharper points than regular Grimm, only adding to their already-frightening presence.

They were lucky, all told, that this swarm of Deathstalkers were young, small in size. She raised a gun even as she ran, shooting at three of them in quick succession. Though the scorpion-like monsters were already the size of ponies, their armor was immature, and her Fire Dust blasted them into pieces that disintegrated before they hit the ground.

Not all of them were so small, though. Further down the street, Pyrrha and Nora were tag-teaming one that was almost as long as any of the buildings. That didn’t even count the tail, which shot over and over at the women. Nora lunged out of the way, and Pyrrha managed to block it with her spear, gritting her teeth as she held it aloft with both hands, shifting it each time the stinger pulled back to try again.

“Y’all get the smaller ones!” Yang called out, raising a gun. She shot the stinger, and though the burst of Fire Dust would have hurt it a little, it was too heavily plated in armor to be blown off by a single bullet. The Deathstalker, however, did pull away from Pyrrha at the distraction. Its beady red eyes focused on Yang. “I got big guy here.”

There would have been no way Pyrrha and Nora were going to break through that armor with their respective spear and battle hammer. Though they were a part of the town’s fighting force when it was necessary, their experience was limited to small Grimm who could be fought off by simpler weapons. For larger Grimm like this, their best hope came from the Dust bullets that Yang carried. Yang shot the Deathstalker again, for the sole purpose of riling it up and making it clear who its adversary would be that night.

As the Grimm began to scuttle closer, Yang took a few precious seconds to reload the empty chambers of her revolver. She planted her feet, bracing herself while keeping her guns at hip-level. She took a deep breath.

When it was mere yards away, Yang aimed her guns behind her and flipped their switches. She fired, the force propelling her into the air over the large scorpion. She twisted herself, aiming her guns at the back of its head and firing. While it wouldn’t kill it, the commotion would confuse it, and maybe the shots would jar whatever little brain it had. She landed in a crouch, just behind it and out of the way of its tail. This wasn’t the massive, ancient sort of Deathstalker she’d seen deeper in the desert, who were almost fully encased in armor. This one would have a softer underbelly. If she could get underneath it, or flip it over--

The Grimm whirled around, not as ungainly as something with that many legs should have been. It wasn’t the biggest Yang had seen. She’d taken down Grimm of this size before. She could do it again, easy.

“Here, ugly!” she taunted, training her right gun at its head. She counted her shots as she fired-- _one two three four_. She danced back, switching to her left gun even as she reached to her belt for more bullets. It was a well-practiced move, taking only the seconds that the Deathstalker roared in pain and protest. 

When he approached again, she was ready.

Or, at least, she _was_.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a dark flash whirling toward one of the smaller Deathstalkers. Yang’s eyes widened.

“I told you to go back to the house!” she yelled. She raised a gun to her approaching Grimm.

“I can fight!” Blake panted, swinging a long knife and slicing the tail clean off her Deathstalker. Where had that knife even come from? Blake fought like she was dancing, looping around gracefully and dodging the furious blows of her dying Grimm. So, maybe she _could_ fight.

Still, Yang was worried. What if she or a Grimm accidentally pulled her bow while she fought? Yang opened her mouth, worried, about to warn her to stay back, but that moment of distraction was all her own Deathstalker needed.

If she’d been caught in any of the deeper parts of the Grimm’s pincers, she would have been nearly snapped in half. She’d managed to sidestep just enough that when the end of the claw snapped her around the middle, she knew it wouldn’t kill her.

Still… it _hurt_.

The serrated edges of the pincer pinned Yang’s left arm to her side, and the sharp pain there made her immediately regret her lapse in focus. Though it didn’t feel like she’d broken any ribs, she knew the vice-like grip of the pincer around her arm and abdomen would do exactly that if the Deathstalker shook her, or managed to adjust its grip. Carefully, she pushed her pinned arm as hard as she could to try to ease its pressure on her, feeling the claw’s points sink through her shirt and into skin.

Gritting her teeth, she raised her free arm, the arm she’d been about to shoot it with anyway. She aimed for its shoulder joint, and fired.

The whole incident couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but she heard Blake screaming her name as she felt the reverberations of her own shot shudder through the Grimm’s claw. The shot, while not dismembering the pincer, must have hurt, for as it released her, the beast screeched in agony.

Yang grunted, but managed to stay on her feet. She heard Blake, and others, calling out her name, but this would be the best time to finish her job. She ignored the throb around her middle and the wet blood that she felt dampen her sleeve; adrenaline coursed through her veins like a flash fire as she ran, then slid on her knees and underneath the Grimm. 

She emptied her rounds into the underbelly of the scorpion, counting the _onetwothreefourfivesix_ shots of her left revolver. The other emptied at five, and a cloud of acrid-smelling Dust residue billowed up from where they struck, making it impossible to see. The Grimm screamed, and Yang braced herself for the stomping of its many feet-- but her shots must have been enough, for the Grimm disintegrated into ash around her.

“_Yang!_” she heard Blake call. Coughing, Yang pushed herself up from her knees, legs wobbly as the dust and ash around her started to settle.

“I’m good!” she replied, and promptly collapsed back down. The adrenaline had evaporated just as quickly as it’d filled her, leaving her weakened and pained. Immediately, Blake was at her side, pulling Yang’s arm over her shoulders and helping her stand.

“Are you okay?!”

“I just need a minute.” Yang took a deep breath, leaning into Blake’s side. It felt like something still clenched her stomach, almost preventing it from filling with the needed air, but at least it was only an ache and not a sharp pain. Her ribs were probably unbroken, though she could bet she was already bruising. “The other Grimm?”

“We took care of them,” Pyrrha told her, coming closer. Her red eyebrows were high on her forehead, and behind her, Yang could see more of the townsfolk begin to emerge. They’d want answers, too. “Nora just killed the last one.”

“We need to get the shield up--”

“I sent Ren to set it up as we came here,” Nora told them, jutting her chin in the general direction of the town hall. She grinned. “He’s gonna be pissed he missed the fight.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him _pissed_,” Pyrrha remarked mildly. Yang laughed, then groaned as it made her middle start to throb. “You gonna be okay?”

“Are you kidding?” Yang gave a dignified sniff. “This is nothin’. I was much worse off after that thing with the Ravagers. Deathstalkers… they’re nothin’.”

Blake let out a disbelieving snort beside her, but before Yang could respond, a buzzing noise filled the air. Bright blue light flickered in a messy lasso around the town, the manifestation of emergency Light Dust that was used as a shield against more Grimm. It was too expensive and imperfect to keep in place full-time, but while the town was still in panic, it would at least prevent other Grimm from entering Mantle. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief.

“Were there any casualties?” Yang asked, managing to pull herself off of Blake a little.

“You mean other than you?” Nora teased. Yang rolled her eyes. “No. We got the swarm distracted before they could get too far in the city.”

“Good.” She looked from Nora to Pyrrha. “If that’s the case… then Pyrrha, could you give the mayor a report of what happened? I need to… get off my feet for a bit.”

Blake pressed herself closer into Yang’s side again, as if afraid that Yang would topple over at the admission. She felt so warm against her that Yang couldn’t even bring herself to protest.

“Sure thing,” Pyrrha said, nodding.

“Tell him… I’ll write up my report in the morning.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand when he hears you took down the queen Deathstalker,” Pyrrha replied, lips twitching in a smile.

“It wasn’t much of a queen,” Yang muttered. “But thanks.”

“What caused the attack, d’you think?” Nora asked with a frown. “It would’ve had to have been pretty big, to attract a swarm like that.”

“The cave-in,” Yang replied tiredly. “I was worried this would happen. The Faunus are pretty upset about what happened, so I think--”

“Of course it was the Faunus,” someone in the small crowd muttered.

“If they can’t hold themselves together--” someone else began, but Yang drew herself up, tugging her arm back from around Blake’s shoulders to give an appearance of authority.

“I will _not_ listen to _any _of that horseshit _tonight_,” she bellowed, eyes roaring red, ignoring the surge of pain through her body. “What’s done is done, and the shields are up. I will _not _hear any kind of blame!” She let her angry eyes make contact with each person in the crowd, satisfied when, one by one, they dropped their gazes. “If y’all have concerns, y’all are welcome to chat with me about ‘em when I haven’t just saved your ungrateful asses from a damned _Grimm_. Y’all know my office hours. If I hear that any of y’all’ve so much as _looked _at a Faunus the wrong way, I swear to the gods themselves that I’ll string you up on the gallows by your _tongue_.”

As she staggered past the crowd, their silence was reassuring. Weiss would probably have a few choice words to say about that outburst later, but for now, she hurt too much to care.

“Yang, wait,” Blake called, catching up to Yang easily. She’d shoved her long knife into the belt of her skirt; had she hidden it beneath her blouse? Yang hadn’t noticed it when they were among the mesquite; she wasn’t usually so unobservant. “Let me help.”

“I can walk, y’know,” Yang pointed out with exhausted amusement as Blake pulled her arm back around her shoulder.

“I’d feel better about that if I could help,” Blake insisted, easing Yang over to lean against her as they walked. “I’m… amazed that thing didn’t cut you in half.”

“It probably would’ve if I’d been much deeper in its claw.” Yang smiled a little as they moved slowly through the streets. “Less pressure by the tip. I got lucky.”

“And _then _you had to _throw _yourself underneath it…”

“I take my chances as I see ‘em.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I know it.” Yang shook her head, reaching up to pull her hat off with her free hand. It was damp with sweat and gritty with dust. “Where in hell did you learn how to fight like that, anyway?”

“I’m full of surprises,” Blake replied dryly.

“Seriously, how--”

“I grew up out in the country,” she explained. The way she moved underneath Yang’s arm was incredibly distracting. “We had to fight off Grimm from time to time.”

“But you’re _good_.”

“My dad taught me, and he was thorough.” Blake shrugged, which bounced Yang a little. She grunted. Her fighters could probably stand to learn a thing or two from Blake’s style.

Their shared silence was a relief from the wildness of that night, though the streets themselves were picking up in volume again. People were peeking out of windows and doorways, mumbling to each other about what had happened. Some tried to stop Yang as they walked, and each time, Yang paused to reassure them that all was well, and to go back to sleep.

By the time they got back to her house, she was putting a lot more weight on Blake than she’d started with. She didn’t argue when Blake came inside with her, nor when Blake eased her into a chair at the kitchen table. She watched with mild amusement as Blake’s worried frown scrutinized her from top to bottom.

“You’re bleeding,” she commented, gesturing to Yang’s arm.

“So I am,” Yang replied cheerfully, setting her hat on the table and pulling off her vest. The leather had been too soft to offer much protection from the Deathstalker’s pincer, but it had probably helped a little. Now she could see the stains of blood on her arm, and a few freckles of it around her middle. In some places, the shirt had torn completely. She grimaced, and allowed Blake to help her unhook her gunbelt and set it on the table. She tried not to feel too self-conscious as Blake looked her up and down once more.

“Take off your shirt.”

“Pardon?” Yang couldn’t resist a near smirk as Blake set her knife on the table beside the guns. “_Now _who’s the bold one?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“That’s what they tell me.” It would have hurt to laugh too hard, but Yang’s grin was broad as she unbuttoned her shirt. With anyone else, she would have fought them if they tried taking it upon themselves to be her nursemaid. But with Blake… She cleared her throat. “Y’know, if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.”

Blake’s blush _did_ make a laugh bubble out of Yang’s throat, though she immediately regretted it when her body twinged with pain. Hissing, she slid her arms out of her sleeves and dropped her shirt onto the floor. Blake’s face fell.

And maybe it _was_ that bad. Already, the broken blood vessels under her skin where blooming into unhappy blues and purples. Imprints from the sharp points and edges had pierced the skin completely, drawing blood and leaving long scratches across her pale skin. Her arm was bloodied the worst from where she’d tried to keep the claw from squeezing too tightly; while she didn’t think she’d need stitches, there were a couple deep gashes that would at least need to be bandaged up.

“I usually don’t look this bad when I take my clothes off,” Yang joked, but Blake ignored her, already cataloging the damage.

“Do you have bandages and things? Ice?”

Yang sighed. “Yeah. In the cupboard there, and I’ve still got a little ice in the icebox.”

She watched uncomfortably as Blake rounded up the supplies. On any other occasion, she would’ve been patching herself up on her own. She was certainly capable, and had tended worse wounds by herself while out in the field. So it was strange, being told to _sit _and let someone else do all the work. 

“Here,” Blake said, gently pressing some ice against the darkest of Yang’s bruises. She’d wrapped it up in a piece of clean cloth and held it there. For a minute, all Yang could do was stare at Blake’s delicate fingers, so close to her own skin. She was acutely aware of the rising and falling of her almost-bare chest. Blake paused, her blush deepening. “Um… could you hold this? So I can take care of the cuts?”

“Oh!” Now it was Yang’s turn to blush, and the took the bundle of ice from Blake and held it to her midriff. “Right.”

Blake pulled a chair over. She worked in silence, cleaning the wounds and bandaging them up. Yang watched helplessly, uncertain of what she should say or do. Blake was so _close_ to her, _touching _her. Her hands were so soft, so gentle as they wiped the blood with a damp cloth. Yang couldn’t remember the last time she’d truly _given _herself to someone’s care like this. She hated vulnerability. Nobody took care of her like this.

But watching Blake do just that shot a strange thrill deep into Yang’s core.

“All set,” Blake murmured, meeting her gaze as she set aside the roll of bandages. Yang swallowed, but cast a brief glance to Blake’s handiwork. It was tidy, and the bandages were secure.

“Thanks,” Yang replied softly, shifting the ice in her hand. Just enough had melted that the cloth was beginning to soak through. “You didn’t… have to do any of that, y’know.”

Blake said nothing. Her hand came to rest on top of Yang’s, where it held the ice against her bruises. Every nerve in Yang’s body stood at attention, synapses ready to fire.

“I’m… just glad you’re okay,” Blake said at last. She shrugged. “For a moment there, I thought… I don’t know.”

Yang brought her other hand to rest atop of Blake’s, brushing her thumb over her knuckles. “It’ll take a lot more than a Deathstalker to take me outta commission,” she told her, letting a little bit of smugness back into her voice. “Like…”

Blake’s eyes were crystalline as they searched her, and Yang’s words died on her lips. Her beauty was truly overwhelming. She felt like she’d be swallowed up in those eyes, trapped in them like one of those mosquitoes in amber. So maybe a Deathstalker wouldn’t be able to take her out, but these eyes certainly could.

“You…” Yang began, then faltered. She lifted her hand from Blake’s, and with shaky fingers, she reached into that dark hair. She paused when she found the end of the ribbon, searching Blake’s face for any sign that this touch was unwelcome. “You don’t… need to wear this. With me.”

Blake took a deep breath, then nodded slowly. Just as slowly, Yang tugged, the hidden ears twitching free as the ribbon slipped into Yang’s fingers. A blush crept into Blake’s cheeks as Yang set the ribbon on top of her gunbelt.

“I…” she said, her voice breathless. “Uh…”

She shifted closer to Yang, her breathing quickening as Yang ran a hand through her hair. Her touch was so tentative, and she kept looking over Blake’s face to ensure she wasn’t overstepping.

And then Blake leaned in, hesitating as her forehead touched Yang’s. Her blouse was soft against Yang’s skin, so foreign and so thin. As an afterthought, Yang set the melting ice onto the table and wiped her hands on her pants. Hands free, she slid them onto Blake’s waist as the other woman leaned closer, brushing her lips against Yang’s.

It was such a sweet kiss, so light and delicate. Yang was almost afraid to return it, as if it was something that was breakable. But she did, sinking her lips against Blake’s while her fingers twitched more tightly to hold her. Blake’s lips felt so _good_ on her own, fitting against them perfectly. Blake’s tongue slid out over her lower lip, and Yang sighed, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss.

She should have been doing this from the moment she met Blake on that train, she thought stupidly. Kissing her froze time into this single, unmarked moment that muted the rest of the world into a dull haze. Blake made a small noise in the back of her throat as Yang tugged her closer, more insistent in her kiss. Their breathing increased in tempo, and Yang could feel it in the way Blake’s chest rolled against hers.

Yang could have happily kept kissing her for hours, something she knew as soon as the moment was over. She made a soft groan of protest when Blake cut it off, lips twitching in a swollen smile. 

“You… are injured,” Blake said, voice low and husky.

“And?”

“So I’m not going to make it worse by keeping you up all night with… this.” Blake smiled softly, but all Yang could think about was the softness of the lips themselves, and how they’d felt on her own. “It’s past midnight. You need to get some rest.”

“That doesn’t sound as fun,” Yang grumbled, but her bruising body _did _ache. Blake rose and offered her a hand. Yang moaned dramatically as she stood, pressing a hand lightly against her ribs.

“I’m gonna put everything away, and you can get changed,” Blake told her, nodding to her half-dressed state. Yang _did _notice the way her eyes lingered on her abs; bruising couldn’t completely hide their definition. She bit back a smile, and _almost _asked if Blake wanted to help her get changed. She decided not to push her luck.

“Yes, ma’am,” Yang replied with a goofy salute, then winced as it pulled a bruised muscle. Blake’s gaze softened, then gave Yang a second, gentler kiss.

“I’ll check in on you when I’m done.”

“I… okay.”

Yang’s heart was abuzz as she changed into her nightshirt, and her stomach rolled in pleasant somersaults. They’d _kissed_. _Twice_. Yang could still almost taste her, smell her. She could almost still feel the way Blake had pressed against her skin. Just thinking about it sent a wave of goosebumps flying down her arms. It didn’t make sense. She’d kissed plenty of other women in her life. She’d flirted with them, touched them, taken them to bed. 

None of them made her feel the way Blake had.

And all they’d done was kiss. Though, she supposed that the care Blake had given her carried its own sort of intimacy. Yang had never enjoyed being taken care of; she’d been let down too many times to take comfort in it. The only person she’d learned to trust was herself. So why did it feel almost pleasant when Blake had taken her home and cared for her?

“How’re you feeling?” Blake asked, poking her head into Yang’s room.

“Oh, you can come in,” Yang said, waving her in. Now, any space between them felt like too much. 

“So?”

“Oh, I’m… as good as you could expect, for being pinched by a Deathstalker.”

“Pinched,” Blake repeated, leaning against the wall and raising an eyebrow.

“Well, it was basically just a pinch. A very, very large pinch.”

“Uhuh.” Blake’s smile was small, and sultry, and too far away from Yang. Wordlessly, she opened her bandaged arm up, beckoning Blake closer. Sighing, she came, sitting beside Yang on the bed and smiling tolerantly when Yang wrapped her arm around her.

And for a moment, neither of them said anything, just enjoying the silence of each other’s company. Now that they’d stepped over the ledge of that kiss, everything seemed to tumble into familiarity and comfort. Blake sank against her frame, and Yang couldn’t recall the last time being next to someone felt so _right_. Caught up in the moment, Yang planted a soft kiss against her hair. One of the cat ears twitched.

“I think you should stay with me tonight. In here,” Yang told her quietly.

“Oh?”

“Y’know… in case I need your medical expertise.” As she spoke, she kissed down the side of Blake’s head, to the edge of her jaw, only stopping after trailing down her neck, where the collar of her shirt prevented her from going lower.

“Medical expertise,” Blake repeated, amused, but tilted her head, spreading her neck for Yang’s lips. Goosebumps puckered up at the touch. “Is that what this is?”

Yang pulled away, heartened by the disappointment on Blake’s face as she did so. “Well, maybe not strictly for medical purposes.”

“Then what for?” she asked, full of challenge. 

“For me.” Yang smiled, caressing Blake’s jaw with her thumb. After all, she couldn’t find the words to explain that she just wanted to fall asleep with Blake’s body against her own, warmth on warmth, feeling the gentleness that she’d given Yang that night. It wasn’t even about sex; she was too sore for that, anyway. It was Blake’s _presence _she wanted.

It had been like her body had been craving her presence her whole life, without knowing exactly what the craving was, and now that it was so close, it was all Yang could think about.

Blake blinked slowly, maybe even recognizing what she’d meant. Maybe even feeling it herself. Their connection was as delicate, as fine, as a spider’s web, each little vibration pulling to each other. It was a sense so intimate it was almost frightening, but Yang found herself clinging to it, not looking away from Blake’s intent gaze.

“Where do you keep your nightshirts?” she asked softly. 

Yang pointed out the dresser, watching with amusement as Blake dismissed herself to get changed in another room. Her modesty was cute; hadn’t she just seen Yang in her bra? While she waited, she slid under the covers. The desert night was cool, and Yang was eager to share her warmth with Blake.

Like the first night Blake had stayed with her, the nightshirt was overly large, the sleeves so long that she’d needed to roll them up. Yet the top button was left undone, and Yang’s gaze lingered on her collarbone a moment too long.

“What’re you looking at?” Blake asked, smiling, as she clambered under the blanket beside her.

“You.”

Blake laughed, laying down, her black hair spilling over the pillow. Yang fell back, as well, rolling gingerly onto her side in order to kiss her again. Blake indulged her for a few minutes, with lips and tongue and tenderness. In a way, Yang was almost glad for her injuries; it meant she could enjoy this slower pace without pushing for something more. She could relish this contact for what it was.

“Okay,” Blake said, drawing back even as Yang tried to catch her lips again. “We really need to sleep.”

“Do we?” Yang asked with a sigh before giving her one last kiss.

“You were saying something about giving the mayor a report tomorrow?”

“Oh, shit. I guess so.”

Blake leaned back against the pillow, collar shifting a little to reveal a hint of more skin. Her neck was so smooth, her collarbone…

Yang frowned. “What’s that?” she asked, running a finger up the length of her collarbone. The end of it, near her shoulder, was darkly tinged in the telltale purpling of a bruise. “Did you get hurt tonight?”

“Oh, no, that’s--” Blake began, but silenced herself abruptly, catching herself in a misstep. Tensing, she pulled the shirt tighter. “It’s nothing,” she said shortly.

“Let me see,” Yang asked her gently. Tentatively, Blake’s hand fell away and Yang’s replaced it, pulling back the collar just enough to see the bruise that ran over her shoulder. Yang placed her hand against the skin gently, considering. If her own hand had been a little bigger... A storm cloud settled over her as she made her guess, splaying her fingers to match the purple marks. “Who grabbed you?” she asked quietly.

“It’s nothing,” Blake repeated, and Yang could sense the closing-off, the erecting of a wall, the sealing off against whatever this was. 

“Does someone know?” Yang asked, pushing herself up on her elbows, grimacing at the pressure on her own bruise. “Did someone attack you, or--”

“It’s nothing.”

“Blake,” Yang said, finding her patience. “You know I’m the sheriff here, right? If someone’s hurt you, it’s my job to stop it.”

“I’m okay,” Blake told her, an odd calm in her voice. She hesitated. “I… I can tell you about it, but not tonight. It’s… complicated.”

“But if--”

“No.” Her bright eyes bored into Yang’s, leaving no room for discussion. “Waiting a day isn’t going to change anything, for good or bad. Trust me. It’s… complicated. And you deserve to rest before I make you sit through it.”

Yang furrowed her brows in concern. Blake had shown she’d trusted Yang already, hadn’t she? She’d given her a dangerous secret, and Yang had kept it close over the past couple of weeks. And pushing her too much could potentially damage that trust. But if someone had _hurt _her…

“Is someone hurting you?” Yang asked, deadly quiet with the gravity of the question.

Blake hesitated.

“It’s… complicated,” she said, voice noticeably smaller. “But I’ve got everything under control. It’s handled. But I… I’ll tell you tomorrow, okay?”

Yang sensed the precipice; if she pushed further, she might break that tenuous connection between them.

Now it was her turn to offer up some trust.

“Tomorrow,” Yang repeated.

It was as much for herself as it was for Blake that she looped her arms around her waist and pulled her closer. Her sore muscles throbbed at the tight contact, but Yang ignored it. Maybe it had something to do with what Blake had tried to tell her before the Grimm attack, she thought as Blake nestled her face into the crook of Yang’s neck. She’d looked so shaken when she’d found her among the mesquite. The arrival of the Grimm, and her subsequent injury, had made her completely forget.

If that was the case… then Blake had been ready to tell her anyway. It could wait one more night.

“Tomorrow,” Yang murmured again, once more pressing her lips to her hair.

At least in Yang’s house, for now, Blake would be safe. For that night, they'd take care of each other.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW warning later in the chapter. Not that it's ever stopped y'all...

Sunlight fought its way through the gaps in Yang’s dark curtains, just bright enough to wake her up. She groaned at the immediate ache on her ribs, and she pressed a hand against them. Memories from the night before trickled in, the warm body beside her proof of all of them.

And they hadn’t even _done_ anything. There was no reason for Yang to feel as giddy as she did. It had been no different than sharing a bed with Ruby-- minus a few kisses, of course. It had all been quite innocent. She closed her eyes again, wishing she could just stay in bed all day with Blake at her side. Her battered body could certainly use the rest.

“You up?” Blake asked, voice husky with sleep. Yang grunted affirmatively, then rolled her head to the side in order to face her. One cheek pressed against the pillow, Blake blinked. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like an autotrain ran over me.”

Blake huffed in amusement, then slowly pushed herself up. A thick lock of hair tumbled around her face, which Yang reached up to tuck behind one of her human ears. Blake blushed, so endearingly that Yang could only smile. For a moment, they just looked at each other, letting their groggy minds wake up a little more.

It was nice, to have something so pleasant to wake up to, even in the aftermath of something as terrible as a mine cave-in and a Grimm attack. It kept her from immediately closing in on the despair.

“You sleep okay, baby?” Yang asked, the diminutive slipping out in sleepy carelessness. Blake bit back a smile at the word, and Yang couldn’t regret using it.

She _did _feel regret, however, as she sat up. She winced at the strain on her abdomen, wondering how colorful it would be today. At least it might win her some sympathy drinks at the saloon, she thought brightly. Blake nodded, though her eyebrows crinkled with concern.

“Want me to get some more ice?”

“I can do that,” Yang replied with a shrug. “Really, I’m not that helpless.”

“Just because someone’s around to give you a hand doesn’t make you _helpless_,” Blake told her with a light chuckle, swinging her legs out of bed. “It makes you _smart_, to accept the help when you need it.”

“I didn’t _need_ it, exactly…”

“It’s too early to go around in circles like this,” Blake complained, rolling her sleeves back up. They were long, and though she’d rolled them up before going to bed, they’d come undone in the night to completely engulf her hands. “I’ll get the ice. Take your time getting up.”

Without the extra company, staying in bed wasn’t nearly as enjoyable, and Yang couldn’t justify going back to sleep when the sun was already up. Still, she lay in bed for an extra few minutes, listening to the muffled sounds of creaking cupboards as Blake pattered through the kitchen. With a groan of determination, she rolled out of bed, wincing again when her bruised muscles protested the movement. Just bending over to pull her pants on was a sore activity, but it could’ve been worse, she supposed. She could remember breaking multiple ribs after a Grimm attack on the Xiao Long ranch, and being in so much pain that Ruby had needed to help her get dressed in the mornings. This wasn’t _that_ bad, comparatively speaking.

Still, she stared at her reflection in the mirror before she buttoned her shirt up, admiring the array of color. The splattering of purples and maroons had spread during the night, crawling down her stomach and up her chest. She might as well have been a canvas; she looked oddly similar to some of Schnee’s abstract artwork.

“Can I come in?” Blake called through the door after a quick knock. She opened the door anyway, peeking in and catching Yang’s reflection in the mirror. “Oh, that’s… pretty bad.”

“I was just thinking that nobody can tell the mayor,” Yang replied seriously, shooting a grin over her shoulder. Blake was fully dressed already, much to Yang’s regret. “He’ll prob’ly wanna tan me and hang my skin up on the wall. It’s pretty much a work of art.”

“That’s disturbing.” Blake made a face. “But I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“He’s got so much weird shit,” Yang went on, shaking her head. “I’m pretty sure he buys half of it just for the novelty. He’s got the most hideous-- what’s that?” she asked, noticing what Blake had in hand wasn’t ice. It was a small jar.

“I found it in the kitchen,” Blake told her, holding it up. “Do you think this will help? It says it’s for bruises. I figured we could try this before getting the ice.”

“Yeah,” Yang said, smiling as she took the jar. It was a salve she had bought on a past trip to Argus. _For aches, pains, and bruises_, it read, and it had cost more than she’d ever admit. She wouldn’t have even bought it at all if Ruby hadn’t given it a glowing recommendation. “It’s supposed to be. I’ve never used it.”

“Why not?” Blake unscrewed the lid, taking a brief sniff. 

“It was a little pricy, and it’s hard to get a hold of out here. So I’ve been saving it for... _extreme _situations.”

“Like getting hugged by a Deathstalker?” Blake asked, a small smile playing on her lips. “If that’s not an extreme situation, I don’t know what is.”

“I s’pose,” Yang remarked, holding out her hand for the jar. Blake regarded it thoughtfully.

“Maybe I should put it on,” she said slowly. “You probably can’t reach your back on your own.”

Yang pretended to consider. Though she still didn’t like the idea of feeling helpless, there was enough truth to Blake’s words, and the idea of her hands on Yang’s skin was a pleasant one. Slowly, she nodded, following Blake’s gesture back to the bed.

She worked her sleeves back down her arms, careful to make sure the bandages on her arm wouldn’t come loose as she took her shirt off. Those, at least, she could check later on her own. She hoped the wounds would be closed up enough that she could do without them completely.

The salve was slightly minty, and Yang found the smell refreshing. She closed her eyes and sighed as Blake gently worked it into her skin. It was less greasy than she’d expected it to be, and colder, but immediately, she felt the ache of her bruises lessen. It was no cure, but it did help her breathe more easily. With the pain dimmed, Yang could afford to focus on more welcome sensations, like the smoothness of Blake’s fingers against her flesh.

“How is it?” Blake asked, her touch lingering on Yang’s ribs an extra second. Yang tried to ignore the flutter of her heart.

“It’s… good stuff,” Yang replied lamely, catching herself sinking against Blake’s hand. Self-consciously, she made herself straighten back up. She gave Blake a lazy grin. “It helps that I’ve got a good nurse, too.”

“I do what I can.” Blake’s returning smile was small, almost mysterious. She directed Yang to turn, in order to tend her back. “I’m glad you’re not a whiny patient, at least.”

“Nah,” Yang said, closing her eyes again. “I behave myself.”

“Do you?”

Yang laughed, and was pleased that the pain was only the mildest twinge. “See? I knew you’d learn fast.”

She lolled her head to the side as Blake finished her work. Blake moved her hands like a caress across her back, gliding over her spine like she was counting vertebrae. It was enough to make Yang wish that she had stripped her bra off, as well, longing to feel those hands climb the length of her back...

“There,” Blake said softly, screwing the lid back on the jar and setting it aside. “All set.”

Yang sighed again, more heavily, feeling ready to slump back over as Blake wiped her hands on her skirt. “That felt nice,” she said, before she could stop herself.

“How nice can a bruise feel?” Blake quipped.

“Better now than before!” Cheerfully, she pulled her shirt back on, the motion feeling a lot easier than it had the first time around. “That stuff works wonders. Worth every lien, I’d say.”

Now facing Blake, Yang let her eyes flicker to her shoulder, her shirt buttoned up high to hide her own bruise from view. Now that Yang had been taken care of, this was as good a time as any to address Blake’s.

“Your turn?” Yang asked, taking a more serious tone, nodding at her shoulder.

All good humor faded from Blake’s face as she looked away. In what she hoped was a reassuring gesture, she reached a hand out to smooth the hair away from Blake’s neck. She leaned in, kissing her lightly. Blake didn’t return it.

“I was hoping you’d forgotten,” she admitted faintly.

“I don’t forget this sorta thing.” Though Yang didn’t try to kiss her again, she continued to run her fingers through Blake’s long dark hair. “D’you wanna tell me what happened?”

Blake still didn’t meet her eyes, choosing instead to look down at her hands, clenching her skirts with white knuckles. “It’s…” she began after a moment, pausing to bite her lip. “...a bit complicated.”

“I remember you said that from last night.” In all of Blake’s time in Mantle, Yang couldn’t recall a single moment where she had seemed afraid. She did now, and Yang’s heart clenched. Her fear was palpable, and Yang could almost feel it roll off of her in cold waves.

“You’re… not going to like what I have to say,” Blake told her softly. “If you… If you want me to leave town after this, I will. I’ll do that.”

“Why would I do that? _You’re _the one who got hurt.”

“It’s so much more than that.” Blake closed her eyes, bracing herself, ears flattening on her head. “Yang, I… wasn’t being completely honest with you about the autotrain.”

Yang’s hand had been running through Blake’s hair, but she pulled back now, confused. “Huh?”

The rise and fall of Blake’s chest became faster, more nervous. “He… he didn’t tell me anyone was gonna get hurt,” she said, as much to herself as to Yang. “That anyone was gonna get _killed_.”

“Who said this?” Yang asked, staring. Her concern was growing into something more wild, something to be restrained. She couldn’t have said if it was anger, or alarm, or anticipation. She tried to smother it all, to keep her eyes their soft shade of lilac. She didn’t want to scare Blake back into silence.

And for another long moment, she was worried she’d done that anyway. Blake’s silence was long and painful, but Yang could still see her mouth working, trying to find the right words.

“Blake,” she said, as lightly as she could manage. “What happened on that train?”

“I was… never a passenger.” Blake’s admission was high-pitched and breathless, little more than a squeak. Her usual self-assuredness, gone. “I… came on board after… after what happened. I mean, I didn’t… I didn’t take part in the attack. I didn’t even _know_ there was going to be an attack. I just thought he was gonna sneak me on the train somehow, like a stowaway. I didn’t know… I didn’t know he’d have everyone killed to get me here. I didn’t know I was supposed to be the only survivor.”

Yang said nothing, but felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck.

“We… in the city, I mean… never did anything like that,” she whispered, head lowering even further to stare into her lap. “But he… he needed someone who could pass for human. He’s been out here for a few months now, but I didn’t know that he… that he did things like _that_. I mean, I knew that people were killed sometimes, but I thought… they always told me that the only people who died were people who deserved it. So I… I tried telling myself that the passengers deserved it, too, but... gods, they killed the _kids_.”

“Who’s this _they_?” Yang asked, deadly quiet. Blake’s inhale was almost a gasp.

“The… the White Fang.”

Yang shot up sharply, and Blake cringed back.

“I didn’t know they were like this!” she said wildly, already holding up her arms against an expectant blow. Yang held her silence, but forced herself to sit back down. There was more to the story in that reflex alone. “It was different in the city! We… we protested, we taught self-defense, and we tried to help runaways get north. But the branding… I just wanted to help more, and he told me that if I helped spy for him in Mantle, that we could take down the people responsible. That we could stop the brandings, and the beatings, and the lynchings… I thought… that I could make a difference.”

“So you were put on that train… to _spy _on us?” The shock of it felt like icy water running through her veins. Even that first night, she’d brought Blake to Schnee’s manor, to listen in on their conversations. Hell, she’d even spent the night in Yang’s house. Her eyes widened. How much had she let slip in that first night alone? Had she snooped around Yang’s house for intel? How much had she passed on to the Fang?

“I didn’t know it was going to be like this,” Blake told her in a small voice. “Adam was… He…”

When her voice trailed off, Yang made the connection. “Is he the one who hurt you?” she asked quietly. Blake sank her forehead against her palm, sighing before she nodded.

“He was my… mentor. When he worked with the city Fang. He was my leader. A friend. And… more than that, too. Sometimes.”

Yang raised an eyebrow at her bitter smile. She didn’t press. It was already hard enough to keep herself detached. So much of her longed to give Blake her sympathy, her care, but there was a deep part of herself that was hurt, that she’d been used. It always came down to someone using her, a nasty voice whispered in the back of her mind. Of course Blake had done the same. She clung to that hurt like a shield.

“Back when I was still in the city, I believed everything he told me about mining towns. When he said I could help him, I jumped at the chance. I… guess I should’ve known he wasn’t telling me the truth about his plan, but he always knows _just _what to say to make you trust him.” She shook her head dismally. “Maybe that’s why I always end up going back to him.”

Lightly, Yang placed a hand on Blake’s knee. For all her anger, she couldn’t suppress her instinct to comfort.

“When I saw him yesterday, he was… upset. About the cave-in.” Blake’s voice was stony, devoid of emotion as she spoke. “I haven’t been… as helpful as he thought I’d be. The thing with the train… it… it scared me. And even though I hate Schnee, and his… _goons_, there are so many people in town who’re… _decent_. Jaune and everyone at Crocea Mors never say anything bad about the Faunus. Jaune’s even friends with a few. When the cave-in happened, Pyrrha started taking up a collection for the families. And you...” When Blake visibly swallowed, Yang squeezed her knee just a little tighter. “I can’t… I can’t keep taking part if he wants all of them dead. They’re _good_, Yang. And… so are you.”

“He’s not gonna kill anyone,” Yang told her firmly, trying to ignore the praise. She was already having trouble fighting back her emotions. “I’m here to make sure of that.”

“He’s powerful, Yang.” Blake finally looked up. This wasn’t the same woman who’d daringly called her a _sellout_, or the same woman who flirted with her so smoothly. Now, she only looked exhausted, sad… and hopeless. “He’s trying to recruit more White Fang from the cities. But I’m not giving him any more information. I can’t… I can’t keep doing this.”

“Can you leave?” Yang wasn’t sure when she’d wrapped her arm around Blake’s waist, pulling her closer. Blake let out a bark of humorless laughter.

“That’s what I’ve been _trying_ to do. But you don’t just _leave_ the White Fang. Especially out here, where Adam’s in charge.” Blake stared down at the floor. “Trying to convince him I haven’t learned anything important has been bad enough.”

Yang remembered the week before, the split lip that Blake had attributed to clumsiness. This bruise hadn’t been the only time, she realized. And Blake had dismissed her split lip so easily, so ready with an excuse. There was no way it had been the first time he’d raised a hand to her. “You can leave,” Yang told her quietly. “I can help. I’ll blow his brains out.”

“You can’t just kill people,” Blake said, sighing. “Please. You… you’re better than that.”

It wasn’t like Yang hadn’t killed people before. She’d killed bandits before, both in her cattle driving days and during her time as sheriff. She’d executed people. Yet she’d never really wanted to kill anyone. She took no joy in death. 

But the death of someone like Adam would at least have given her some relief. Blake pulled her legs up underneath her, curling into Yang’s side. Anyone capable of doing what they had to the people on the train-- and to Blake-- was worth killing. She clenched her jaw.

“If he comes here, I can’t promise I won’t,” she said firmly, “but I won’t go chasing him, if that’s what you want.” She hesitated. “You’re… still going to leave him though, right?”

The ensuing silence made her heart sink.

“You don’t… just _leave_ the White Fang.” She stared fixedly at the floor. “Or Adam.”

“Why not?”

“Because he…” Her voice trailed off, defeated. She tried again. “He doesn’t let things go,” she went on carefully. “He’ll make the rest of my life a living hell. And he’ll come after me, he’ll come after this town… and he’ll come after you, too.”

“Why would he come after me?” Yang asked, raising an eyebrow. Blake flushed, her cheeks darkening. An ear twitched.

“I told him about you,” she admitted. “After... I told you about being a Faunus. I thought that maybe, if he knew you were on my side, that I trusted you… that he’d rethink things. That he’d see that not everyone in town was bad. Instead… gods, he was so angry.”

Blake’s voice broke on that last word.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t touch you,” she replied lowly, trying to keep a growl from her voice. “I swear it to the gods themselves.”

“Don’t,” Blake warned her, sharpness lacing her tone. “You don’t know him.”

“I do know that he ain’t nothin’ compared to me.” Yang smiled bared teeth. “Last I heard, _I’m _the gunslinger in these parts. Not someone named_ Adam_.”

“Not everyone _wants _to be known for their shooting,” Blake snapped. “He’s good, Yang.” 

“Not as good as me.” Sure, maybe he was good at scaring people from the shadows. Maybe he could massacre defenseless people on an autotrain. But she was Yang Xiao Long, and nobody bested her.

Still… she didn’t like the doubt in Blake’s eyes. Yang swallowed, suddenly unsure of where she stood with her.

“Blake,” she said, more softly. “What am I to you?”

This hadn’t been the question Blake had expected. She blinked, ears popping up with surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You said you were… trying to get information out of me.” She kept her voice as neutral as possible, trying not to betray the hurt she still felt about that fact. Blake’s eyes widened in understanding. “Was that… all I am to you?”

“No,” she replied, seeming to surprise herself as confidence finally returned to her. “I… I never gave him anything that you told me.”

“What?” This _did_ surprise Yang. “Anything?”

Blake smiled weakly. “When I first heard that the famous gunslinger had signed on with Schnee… I wanted to hate you. I _tried _to hate you, even when we met on that autotrain.” She shook her head, perhaps in amusement at her past self. “But when we talked...”

Yang remembered how stricken she’d felt, seeing Blake step into the moonlight that first time. She’d never been so affected by the mere presence of a woman before. She’d never known her own heart could beat so loud, or so fast. 

“Everything I told myself about you,” Blake continued, staring distantly at the wall. “I could _feel _that none of it was true. I could tell you didn’t like Schnee-- No, I know you tried to hide it,” she said, chuckling a little as Yang opened her mouth to protest. “I’m just… very observant.”

Maybe being observant, and learning to read between the lines, had been a necessity when dealing with someone like Adam, Yang thought darkly. She gripped Blake’s thigh, a mix of reassurance, of comfort, of gratitude.

“You were nothing but good to me. And the idea of telling him things you’d said… it just felt wrong. I didn’t … I didn’t want to betray you. Ever.” She paused, as if unsure about her next thought. She said it anyway, a bloom of red rising in her cheeks. “And… I know how crazy this sounds, but the more I talked with you… the more it felt like I already knew you. Like I already _liked_ you. Every little thing you said or did that went against what I’d told myself, it was like I wasn’t even surprised when I was wrong. It was like… _Oh, yeah, I should’ve known this_. Like I should’ve… remembered, or something. Which is stupid, since we’d never even met before, and--”

Yang silenced her rambling with a soft kiss. Blake didn’t need to say anything else. Yang got the picture.

“I… think I know what you mean.” It was how they had gotten along so easily, fit together so naturally. A connection so threadbare that Yang had wondered if she’d only imagined it. It was a relief, to hear Blake speak of it herself. “It doesn’t sound crazy at all. But… this all the more reason for you to leave the White Fang. We can… I don’t know. Maybe figure it out a little more. But I need to be able to trust you first.”

She tried to smile, but Blake didn’t return it. “I can’t leave.”

“Look.” Yang found her resolve, muscles tightening as she forced herself to hold it. She set her hand on Blake’s jaw, forcing eye contact. “I’m not gonna run you outta town, but as sheriff, I can’t let someone from the White Fang just… be loose. You need to make a choice.” She hated her words when she saw what they were doing to Blake’s face. It was more than just her expression falling; it looked as though Blake was sinking with her whole body, her whole soul. “I like you,” Yang said, hoping to soften the blow. “A lot. And… I want you to stay here. We can figure this-- everything-- out together. But if you’re gonna stay with the White Fang… I can’t have you here.” She took a deep breath, hoping to keep the stutter from it. “I can’t risk my town like that.”

“So I either leave the White Fang…” Blake repeated, voice collapsing into a monotone as she looked away again.

“...or leave town.”

\--

“And do _you _have any thoughts, Yang?”

Yang stared blankly at the model before her, the words flying over her head. Her mind was still very much wrapped up in the conversation she’d had with Blake days before. Everything else-- Schnee’s displeasure at the Grimm attack, Weiss’s warning that the townfolk were whispering about how the Faunus were to blame, the tragedy at the mine-- took a backseat to that one heartrending conversation. She hadn’t seen Blake since then, and it seemed like every passing hour was another hour of torture.

“Yang?” Schnee repeated, and Yang jolted to attention when Weiss swung a kick at her under the conference table. She was suddenly aware of many pairs of eyes staring at her; apparently, her lack of focus had become the focus for everyone else at the meeting. It was so unlike her to be so self-absorbed, and disapproval was written on everyone’s face. She cleared her throat.

“What?” she asked stupidly, and caught Weiss scowling out of the corner of her eye.

“Would it keep out the Grimm?” Schnee asked, annoyed. Yang refocused back on the model of the town in front of them.

It had been impressive, really, how quickly Schnee had procured a to-scale model of Mantle. All of the buildings were correct in size, from the large town hall and Schnee’s own manor to the smaller cabins of the Faunus quarter. There was even a miniature gallows, a tiny noose hanging from the gibbet. Yang frowned. The wall would be tall enough to keep out Deathstalkers and King Taijitus, but would be useless against Ravagers and Nevermores. 

Stranger yet, the town itself was divided messily by the wall, cutting off the Faunus quarter in a jagged gash.

“Why isn’t the Faunus quarter included?” she asked.

“There’s a gate to it here,” Schnee indicated, pointing at a large gap. “It’ll remain open during the day, so the Faunus can still come and go as needed.”

“But if there’s a Grimm attack--”

“Oh, we’ll close it if that happens. We’ll keep it closed at night, too, for our protection.”

“Why lock 'em out, though?” Yang gestured to the divide. “The Faunus need just as much protection as we do.”

“Resources are limited, and the people of this town come first.”

Yang eyed the wall surrounding his estate; somehow, he had enough resources to wall off all of the land surrounding his manor. “Right.” She looked back up, fixing him with a hard stare. “You know you’ll be out of miners if they all get killed by Grimm, right?”

“There are some good fighters among them,” he said dismissively. “Believe me, I know. And maybe it would teach them to control their emotions.

And of _course _this was what it came back to. She narrowed her eyes. “I’d think anyone’d be upset at what happened. You can’t just punish ‘em for grief.”

“It’s not a punishment,” Schnee replied soothingly. “But I do have to think about protecting our people. If there are any further cave-ins, maybe this will encourage the Faunus to have a care.”

Yang’s expression morphed from suspicious to dumbfounded. She shot a glance at Weiss, whose bland expression never wavered. She lowered her voice, turning back to Schnee.

“That’s cruel,” she said, rising to poke at the little wall casually. “And I bet you’d make them build it, right? Build something that ain’t even gonna help ‘em?”

“Look, Yang,” he said in a patronizing tone. “I know you have a… soft spot for the Faunus. But when they’re in such a big herd like this, they’re so easily spooked. And in such great numbers, they’ll attract Grimm. We can’t afford to risk it. Several people have raised these-- quite valid-- concerns already. It would be irresponsible to not follow through.”

“It’s gonna do nothin’ against airborne Grimm,” Yang said flatly. 

“We’ve never had Nevermores,” Schnee scoffed. “And the Ravagers only came that one time, if you’ll remember. They attacked the Pine Ranch, and never got into town.”

“Because I killed ‘em all.”

“Which we are all _very_ grateful for.” Condescension dripped from his words and Yang clenched her fists under the table. “But it’s the terrestrial Grimm we’re most concerned about.”

Yang leaned back in her seat, incubating her growing fury as Schnee went on to talk about materials, labor, and budgets. It was probably too much to hope for that Weiss would speak, to support her, but the other woman said nothing, only staring at the model of town with that same icy stare. With the autotrain scheduled to get up and running again that week, he was sending Weiss to Argus, to get in touch with architects and look into building materials. It seemed cold, even to Yang, that Schnee was volunteering his own daughter to travel the same route that had so recently seen a massacre. But Weiss only nodded, accepting the order.

She wondered how the Faunus would react to Schnee’s plans of a wall. She wondered how the White Fang would.

This would have been a topic she would have loved to talk with Blake about. Maybe Blake would have had an idea on how to handle it, or have different suggestions she could propose to Schnee in lieu of a wall.

Yang would have welcomed just about any excuse to talk with Blake again.

But she hadn’t seen her at all since the morning of her confession. It had been important, she knew, to give her some space to think. The following night had been painful for Yang; she’d woken up from a restless sleep, groggily reaching for the empty side of her bed, heart falling when she remembered. The idea that Blake had caved, that she’d returned to the White Fang instead of remaining in Mantle, had filled her with such a dread that in the nights after, she’d needed to calm her nerves with booze to fall asleep at all. Even then, she still woke up exhausted and stressed.

She dreamed of bruises. She dreamed of nooses.

She dreamed of Blake.

“Are you just gonna let him get away with this?” Yang hissed at Weiss when the meeting was adjourned. Stoically, Weiss smoothed out her thick braid over her shoulder.

“You act like I have power,” she replied boredly. “I don’t _let _him do anything. He lets himself, and frankly, he has a point.”

“But the Faunus--”

“--are the most likely group to have negativity,” Weiss interrupted, taking a firm hold of the conversation. “It’s better to keep them separate. And, as Father said, there’ll be a gate. They won’t be completely isolated.”

“This is still gonna alienate 'em even more,” Yang insisted.

“My hands are tied, Yang.” Weiss folded her arms, expression stony. “Father runs this town. Not me.” She hesitated, and Yang was heartened to see discomfort on her face. “I don’t… agree with locking people out,” she went on, voice lowered. “But if this is what the people want… who are we to stop it?” Yang opened her mouth to argue, but Weiss smoothly shifted the conversation before she could get a word in. “Is there anything you’d like for me to pick up in Argus?”

“What?” Yang asked, caught off-guard. Weiss rolled her eyes.

“You know. City things that you can’t get here.” She hesitated. “If there’s… anything you’d like for me to pick up while I’m there… I can do that.”

“Oh.” Weiss’s offer, randomly generous, almost distracted Yang from the issue of the wall. Weiss knew that Yang didn’t often leave Mantle to enjoy the luxuries of a bigger city, but this was the first time she’d ever volunteered to bring back anything. Yang narrowed her eyes. “I… don’t think I need anything. Why?”

Weiss bit her lip, then shrugged. “Just thought I’d ask,” she replied roughly, dismissing it with an almost embarrassed air. “I mean… that’s what friends do, right? They ask?”

At Weiss’s almost confused tone, Yang regretted her suspicion. It was a sobering thought, that her business relationship with Weiss had been construed as friendship. She supposed she was the only person outside of the Schnee family who addressed Weiss by her first name; maybe this was as close to real friendship that Weiss had ever felt. She felt a pang of unexpected sympathy, and nodded slowly. “I… I guess they do.”

Yang had a lot to think about on the walk home. She avoided eye contact with passersby, not wanting to get sucked into conversations and pretend that all was well. There was too much wrong in her world to be able to do that. She just wanted to get home, have a drink, and go to bed. Maybe for those few hours of sleep, she could forget her anger at Schnee, her guilt over Weiss, her fear and worry over Blake.

Maybe…

“Oh… Hi, Yang.”

Yang’s head snapped up. A part of her was relieved to see Blake was still in town, but that anxiety continued to gnaw at her when she saw the dull look in Blake’s eyes. That wasn’t hopeful. She reached a hand under the band of her hat, scratching at an imaginary itch while she quelled all the questions she wanted to ask.

“Oh. Hi.” It made sense that Blake would be here, Yang reminded herself. They were just outside of Crocea Mors. A loud fiddle within raced across jaunty, happy notes that were completely at odds with Yang’s inner turmoil. She straightened up, forcing herself to meet Blake’s eyes. “You… on your way to work?”

“Uh…” Blake’s eyes flickered to the saloon’s swinging doors. “I actually… came for my wages.” She paused. “I got the night off.”

“Oh,” Yang said faintly. She’d come for her wages. That had to mean… “Oh.”

“I… I’m kinda in a hurry,” she added, looking away from Yang’s eyes. There was a deep guilt in that gaze that made Yang feel physically ill. “But I’ll… see you around.”

“Wait.” Yang stepped forward, bridging the gap between them. Without another word, she leaned in, capturing Blake’s lips on hers. If this was going to be the last time she saw Blake, she wanted to remember how perfect they slotted against her own. She would probably never experience a kiss so _right_ for the rest of her life, and she wanted to savor it while she could. When she pulled back, Blake’s eyes were round. At least the kiss had shocked a little life back into them.

And then Blake kissed her again, harder, more insistent. Yang’s hand slid around the back of her neck, pulling her closer and tightening the kiss. The power in Blake’s lips was so strong, so bright, so alive. She couldn’t be giving up yet. This _couldn’t_ be it. One of Blake’s hands set on Yang’s waist, the other curving around to the small of her back.

For one beautiful, shining moment, Yang felt hope.

Someone from inside the saloon must have seen them. A loud wolf whistle made Blake jump. Yang could have killed whoever interrupted that moment, even though it made Blake chuckle a little.

“What’re the odds that was Nora?” she asked, a shadow of a smile on her face.

“Either her or Neptune,” Yang agreed. She hoped that Blake would stay close, would come home with her, would promise that her days in the White Fang were over. But Blake stepped back, looking regretful, and Yang’s hope evaporated.

“See you around,” she said again.

Yang could only nod.

She tried not to think of it as their last kiss as she made her way home. Blake hadn’t explicitly said she was leaving, she tried to tell herself. Still, there had been something so sad in Blake’s eyes. That had to mean something.

It was technically too early to go to bed, as much as she wanted to. Not that she could have. The encounter with Blake had left Yang with the jitters, which she tried to drown with a few full gulps of moonshine. On any other night, she might have gone out to a saloon, to enjoy the company of the townsfolk and the upbeat music. But how could she enjoy a night like this, knowing Blake wouldn’t be there to wink at her from across the room?

Gods, maybe Blake would never be there to wink at her again. 

She stripped her gunbelt off, setting it on the table with a heavy _thud_. It was going to be another long night.

For a while, she tried to keep herself busy by reading the newspaper, though she already knew most of the news anyway; as sheriff, she knew most of what happened around town. She found herself skimming the articles, sometimes needing to read them a second or third time for them to sink in. If Blake was ever found out, Yang knew there’d be an execution notice in the very next issue. Giving up, she tossed it into the fire. There was no point.

When she finally judged it late enough to go to bed, she rose from her chair, stretching, knowing full well that sleep would not be quick or easy in coming.

The sharp rap at the door nearly made her jump.

Eyes narrowed, she looked out the window, only seeing darkness. It was too late for a casual visit, so it was out of wariness that she grabbed one of her guns out of its holster. She stood at the door, pausing as whoever it was knocked again, fast and frantic.

“Who’s there?” Yang called, shifting her feet for a better stance.

“Me.”

Her heart leapt at Blake’s voice. Too eagerly, she wrenched the door open and Blake slipped in, not waiting for Yang to close it before slamming it behind her.

“What’s the rush?” Yang asked, alarmed. Blake dropped something on her table with a small clatter; the long knife she’d used to defend herself from Grimm the other night. “Blake?”

But Blake said nothing. She cupped Yang’s face in her hands, kissing her roughly. Yang’s eyebrows shot up, but she returned it, settling her hands on Blake’s hips. If this was what she wanted, Yang didn’t think she could bring herself to argue.

“I did it,” Blake told her when she cut off the kiss. She slid her hands down to Yang’s sides, and Yang was suddenly aware of their bodies, the gentle slope of Blake’s curves beneath her hands. “I was just… worried he’d follow me.”

“Huh?”

There was a glimmer of pride in Blake’s eyes as she smiled. “I’m free.”

It took a moment for the meaning to sink in. Yang stared, hardly able to think of anything more except how beautiful Blake looked right then, hair disheveled and a lightness to her features that Yang couldn’t recall seeing on her face before.

“You… left them?”

Blake’s smile widened, and Yang had to kiss it again, relief flooding her entire body as she clutched Blake closer. “How?” she asked, heat rising as Blake angled her pelvis against hers.

“I don’t think he expected me to threaten him,” she replied breathlessly, fingers crawling through Yang’s scalp, tangling in her blonde hair. “And to be honest… I didn’t think I could work the nerve up. But I would have stabbed him. I would have.”

“I believe it.” And from the assertive way Blake had gripped her belt loops, she had a feeling she would. She fiddled with Yang’s belt buckle, the flaming heart that Yang had taken for her own personal emblem. “Is he gonna be a problem?”

Only then did Blake pause, her hesitation an answer in itself. Blake slowed herself down, leaving the buckle undone. She couldn’t meet Yang’s gaze as she nodded.

“I’m… sorta surprised he didn’t follow me here,” she admitted, leaning forward and resting her forehead against Yang’s shoulder. The contact was intoxicating. “If he had more people with him, he probably wouldn’t have let me go. But he always wanted us to meet one on one, so we were alone. I got lucky.”

“No shit.” Yang wrapped her arms around Blake’s waist, pulling her close. The full body contact was still not enough. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” She paused. “I was… worried. That you’d leave.”

“It’s…” Blake began, but stopped, biting her lip. “I couldn’t just… go back to that. Not knowing what I know now. Not knowing _you_.” 

She kissed Yang again, more gently. There was more to Blake that night than fierce, demanding kisses. There was something more she was asking of Yang, for something soft and kind. It was something Yang was more than happy to give her. She met the kiss tenderly, rubbing her back in long, even strokes. 

“I’ve made my choice,” she went on when they broke off, embers smoldering in her words. “So I chose Mantle. I chose the people here. And… I chose you.”

She emphasized the statement by tightly gripping Yang’s vest, clutching the leather in her hands like a lifeline. Yang let her open it, to slip it over her shoulders. The quiet sound it made when it hit the floor seemed so decisive, so full of possibility. She took a deep breath.

“I want you to take me to bed,” Blake added, voice firm and wanting. She pressed a hand against Yang’s side, then balled the shirt in her fist. “Now.” 

Yang didn’t need convincing. Her mouth was back on Blake’s in an instant, a tension snapping them together with urgency. The night Blake had stayed in her bed had taught her one thing: she needed Blake beside her there, in her arms. She needed her presence. She needed _all_ of her, just as Blake seemed to need all of Yang. Blake’s tongue was hot against her own as Yang used her body to press her against the wall, then pulled the ribbon out of her hair.

Everything was fire.

It spread down her veins, spreading into Blake in a burning rush. She had no patience as she worked her way down Blake’s shirt, popping open the buttons without even untucking the blouse from her skirt. She paused, momentarily distracted by the odd yellow and green mottling of old bruises on her bare skin, the strange scars. Her modesty the other night now made sense. But Blake caught her chin, forcing her to look up.

“That’s over now,” she murmured. “So stop staring and _fuck_ me.”

Yang’s eyes flashed, wicked. “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she replied warningly, voice low. To drive the point home, she kissed her again, harder. She let her hands roam, gentle enough where she’d seen bruises, but more insistent where her skin was unblemished. She slid a hand beneath the band of Blake’s bra, cupping a breast. She was all too aware of the quickening rise and fall of her chest against her as she rolled a nipple in her fingers. A strangled noise rose in Blake’s throat, muffled by Yang’s mouth.

She worked her mouth across Blake’s collarbone as she pulled her hand back out, sliding it patiently down her front. Already, Blake was trying to grind against her, hips making contact with Yang’s. Slowly, teasingly, Yang began to pull the skirts up, taking her time as she revealed the skin of Blake’s shins, her knees. Her cunt was bare beneath the underskirt, and Yang smiled as she adjusted her grip, moving the skirt to her other hand in order to brush against her. Blake was hot and slick to the touch.

“You’re so wet,” she breathed in Blake’s ear. The other woman was trembling, trying to catch on the fingers that were only just barely rubbing her.

“Y-yeah,” she whimpered. “Yang… please…”

Yang kissed her neck, wet and sloppy over her pulse point. It drummed desperately against her tongue in a wordless beg.

So Yang released it, sinking onto her knees. Automatically, Blake crooked a leg over her shoulder, trying to pull her closer, but Yang spread her palm against her inner thigh, keeping her open while her other hand held the skirt up. She nipped lightly, kissing Blake’s glistening thigh. Blake was helpless, making soft noises in the back of her throat as she buried her fingers in Yang’s hair.

“Please,” she pleaded again, still trying to angle herself against Yang’s mouth. “_Please_.”

Gods, listening to her beg was enough to make heat pool between Yang’s own legs. A small moan caught in her throat as she pressed the tip of her tongue against Blake’s slit, her movements slow and shallow. Blake’s pleas lost coherency as she writhed, trying to pull Yang’s head further into her. It was work to keep a slow pace, but Yang intended to enjoy every moment, every twitch Blake made against her tongue. She hummed with enjoyment, closing her eyes to _feel _every tiny movement and spasm. Yang sucked her clit between her lips, and Blake let out a half-sob as her grip in Yang’s hair tightened, her bucking growing more frantic.

“Yang,” she finally moaned, her voice rising in pitch, shaking. “I’m… I’m…”

Yang released her hold on Blake’s skirt, and it fell around her head as she slid two fingers inside her (so _easily_), pumping them lazily in and out while she continued to hold the suction on her clit. Her one regret was that she wouldn’t be able to see Blake’s face as she came, but the other senses were enough. Blake groaned, shuddering, clenching hard around Yang’s fingers. She might have said some words, or even Yang’s name, but the words fell apart as they left her mouth, devolving into broken sounds that tumbled around her. 

Yang smiled, pressing a more gentle kiss against her clit before withdrawing her fingers. Blake responded with another little noise, more breathless. Yang kissed her again on the thigh, soft and affectionate, before ducking out from underneath the skirt. Blake pulled her leg back, swaying slightly.

There was a rosy flush to her skin, from her cheeks to her neck and down her chest. She blinked, almost dazed, but found focus on Yang once more, a small smile growing as Yang wiped her mouth on her arm.

“That… was not taking me to bed,” Blake managed to say, trying and failing to look stern. Yang chuckled.

“Oh, we’ll get there.” Yang kissed her again, less frenzied than before. She untucked Blake’s blouse, finally pulling it off and dropping it to the floor. “I just couldn’t wait that long.”

“I don’t think…” Blake began, but shook her head when the words didn’t come out the way she’d wanted them to. She laughed. “Yeah. Neither could I.”

Somehow, they did make it to the bed, hardly able to detach from the other’s mouth. Yang bumped into the wall a couple times getting there, but she hardly noticed. Blake had consumed every spare space in her mind, and little things like _spatial awareness _were lost. She was definitely sure that they knocked over one of the kitchen chairs, and Blake yelped when Yang slammed her into the doorframe of the bedroom. Despite this, she did manage to unhook her skirt as they walked, and Blake neatly stepped out of it without missing a beat. 

Blake backed her against the bed, pushing her down to sit down on the edge. She paused, smiling, and unhooked her bra, holding eye contact with Yang as she tossed it to the side. Aside from the collection of scars, her skin was so smooth. Yang reached out a hand to smooth over her shoulder, sliding it down her body slowly, taking in every inch of bared flesh, brushing a thumb across a nipple.

With a small smirk, Yang began to unbutton her shirt, but Blake wrapped a hand around her wrist to stop her.

“Let me,” she said quietly, pushing Yang back onto her elbows. Yang raised an eyebrow in challenge, unable to look away as Blake pushed away an errant lock of blonde hair. Yang’s breaths deepened, anticipatory, as delicate fingers trailed down her neck and along her collar. They stopped at the first button, pulling it out slowly, methodically. There was so much skin before Yang’s eyes, the sweet smell of sex, the emanating heat. She swallowed heavily as Blake worked her tortuous way down.

Her chest was heaving by the time Blake had finished with the buttons. Yang rolled her shoulders, slipping the shirt down and off with a light tug from Blake. She’d seen Yang without her shirt before, only days ago. Dark bruises still covered her abdomen, but there was more healing green and yellow than there had been before. Probably not very attractive, but Blake didn’t seem to take that into account. She leaned in, kissing her as she reached around Yang’s back to unlatch her bra.

The fire was back, hotter than ever as Yang kissed her back, fingers spreading across Blake’s cheek. Blake eased her backward, climbing over her lap to straddle her. Her dark hair fell to either side of Yang’s face, smelling of something floral and clean. She kissed Blake hungrily, fingers digging into her sides as Blake pushed her belt buckle out of the way and worked at the buttons of her pants with one hand. 

Blake didn’t wait to pull them down all the way, snaking her hand under the waistband and between her legs as Yang desperately tried to wriggle out of them. She groaned at the contact of Blake’s fingers against her. She buried her face into the crook of Blake’s neck, kisses messy and uncoordinated as she pushed her pants off with her feet.

“Quit squirming,” Blake said teasingly, sinking a finger into her. Yang inhaled sharply. Just the _thought_ of Blake being inside of her was enough for her to forget her words for a moment.

“Isn’t… that the point?” she panted, nails running up Blake’s back. She hissed, though her eyes glittered in the dim light. She said nothing as she dragged her finger back out to circle Yang’s clit. Her expression said it all.

For all of Yang’s cockiness, for all her ego, Blake had her whimpering as she touched her. She slid down to Yang’s thigh, grinding against it as she worked her hands. She kissed her way around Yang’s stomach and breasts, lips skidding over muscle and bruise. She wound her hands into Blake’s hair, knotting her fingers in it while Blake sucked at points around her breasts, leaving marks. Yang tipped her head back, mouth open with a gasping breath when she felt herself begin to build. Blake kissed her neck as she moved upwards, strangely tender compared to what she was doing below.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” Blake whispered, breath hot on Yang’s ear. Goosebumps erupted at the sensation. Blake slowed her fingers to something more deliberate and teasing, and Yang whined. “For too long.”

This should’ve been something Yang responded to, but all she could manage was a grunt and a thrust of her hips. She felt Blake’s smile at the corner of her jaw as she kissed her. She worked her fingers back inside Yang, who writhed and moaned and tried to form words around the waves that threatened to spill out of her. But Blake smiled, and kissed her again with near innocence.

“Blake…” she began. She wasn’t sure if it was a beg, or a prayer, or a demand, but her words only came out as a pathetic little moan. Blake curled her fingers, and it was enough.

Yang convulsed beneath her, limbs shaking, crying out uncontrollably as she came on Blake’s hand. All other sensation-- her fingernails raking down Blake’s back, the dampness of Blake’s wetness grinding into her thigh, even the way her breath filled her lungs-- seemed to fade in the wake of that violent climax. Blake let out a similar moan, pressing her body tightly against her as she rode out an orgasm of her own on Yang’s thigh.

“Holy-- shit,” Yang croaked out. The room was spinning, or maybe it was all in her head. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cum so hard, as if every other feeling of pleasure she’d ever felt in her life was only a forgettable shadow. She blinked, forcing herself to focus as Blake collapsed limply on top of her, wiping her hand on the bedspread in an exhausted daze. Nothing had ever felt like this.

It had to be Blake, she thought vaguely. It had to be.

For a while, they just lay there, Blake on top of her. Yang ran a soothing hand down her back, dimly aware that it might feel soothing to the scratches she’d presumably left. She closed her eyes, just savoring the sensation of skin on skin, wondering how a body could feel so good on her own. She sighed, looping her arms around her, sticky with sweat.

That stickiness was the reason Blake practically had to peel herself off Yang’s skin, more or less rolling to the side in a graceless fashion. Yang let out a huff, the closest she could get to laughter under the circumstances. She reached an arm out, bringing Blake back into the frame of her body.

“That was,” Blake tried, but stopped, taking a deep breath. She cleared her throat. “That was very nice.”

“Very nice,” Yang repeated, amused. “I thought it was a little more than that, but…”

“Shut up. You know what I mean.”

Yang laughed, then started pushing them upward with her feet. Blake took the hint, and they scooted up toward the pillows. They yanked the blanket out from underneath them, covering it over themselves and snuggling in close.

“So… thinking about for a while, huh? Fucking me?” Yang asked, giving her a smug grin. Blake snorted. “From the minute you met me, right? I bet you wanted to just rip my clothes off, right on that train.”

“Please.” Blake rolled her eyes. “I didn’t think about anything beyond your ego. I still can’t.”

“Admit it. You like it,” Yang teased, then yelped at Blake poked her in the ribs. “Ow!”

“I have no idea why I tolerate you.”

“I can give you a few reasons,” Yang told her, giving her a ghost of a kiss. “Actually, I think I gave you a couple already. But I can give you more.”

This made Blake laugh, and Yang could have drowned in the sound. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” Yang kissed along her neck, dipping a hand between her legs. Blake was caught between a giggle and a moan, nuzzling against Yang’s shoulder. She was still so wet, but Yang worked gently, aiming for a sweet release rather than an agonizing climb. Blake rolled her head to the side, and this time, Yang was able to watch her eyes squeeze shut, her mouth open, her ears flatten against her scalp.

She couldn’t understand how people could think touching a Faunus like this was unclean. She could remember a pastor likening human-Faunus relationships to _fornicating with animals_. This was anything but. Something about this was more true, more real, than any human relationship she’d ever had. Yang kissed Blake’s collarbone, finding nothing but perfection in its angles.

Who needed religion at all, when there was this?

Blake crested with a breathy gasp, Yang continuing to kiss along her neck as she pulled her hand away. Blake curled more tightly against her, panting, trying to press every inch of her own skin into Yang’s body.

“There,” Yang murmured, stroking the smooth skin of her back. She couldn’t get enough of just _touching_ her. “That a good enough reason?”

Blake didn’t even dignify her question with an answer. She merely groaned and tried to nestle deeper.

“Gods,” Yang said, mostly to herself, stroking her hair. “You’re perfect, baby.”

Again, Blake didn’t respond. Maybe she couldn’t. That last one must have knocked the wind out of her, for her eyelids fluttered shut and her breathing began to deepen. Yang smiled, then kissed her forehead.

So many people loved to claim that the gods considered the Faunus to be nothing more than sinners, little more than beasts. Oh, how Yang would have loved to spit in the eye of those judging gods, to wipe the smirks off their faces. Blake was so beautiful in her arms, delicate and sweet, nothing like a beast.

The gods were wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You call this angst??" I can almost hear y'all yelling this at me.
> 
> Oho... we're only just gettin' started...
> 
> Also, shoutout to [Aziminil](https://aziminil.tumblr.com/) for looking this chapter over! And for the "you know what would make this hotter?!" idea. I'm the neediest writer and she's the real MVP.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: There's an execution in this chapter. I didn't go into graphic detail, but if this sort of thing makes you squeamish... be warned.

It was funny, how easily Yang was able to let go of her worries for that one night. The exhaustion that claimed her was complete. It wasn’t just her body that was worn out; all of the built-up anxiety and dread had wearied her mind, as well. But at Blake’s touch, it all melted away. For the first time in days, she slept deeply and well.

She even slept in a little later than she usually did. When she cracked her eyes open, the room was already beginning to grow warm with the desert's morning heat. She was beginning to sweat a little, and her blankets were bunched around her waist.

Well, not just her own waist.

Blake had rolled onto her stomach, one arm stretched across Yang’s torso to rest a hand on her breast. She was still sleeping soundly, ears twitching. She breathed softly, mouth slightly ajar. Yang smiled, running a hand down her spine, over the long red scratches she’d left the night before, only to stop where the blanket began. Blake sighed, reflexively arching her back at the touch.

She was almost dizzyingly beautiful. When it came down to it, Yang was definitely the lucky one.

It was too comfortable a position to disturb. Yang closed her eyes again, not caring that she’d be late to work. Hell, she’d stay home all day if it meant she could enjoy this. She’d send a messenger in and tell them she was sick. She supposed this _was_ a sickness of some kind. She rubbed soft circles into the small of Blake’s back, amused when Blake wiggled closer against her.

It would be so easy to keep pretending that there would be no consequences to Blake’s choice. For now, Yang let those thoughts slip away. For now, she’d enjoy the moment as it was.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed in bed. Yang thought she might have dozed off again, but it was hard to tell underneath the peaceful fog that had settled around them. Eventually, Blake did stir, grunting as she kicked the blanket off of them. The curtains couldn’t keep out the heat of the day, and Yang’s whole body felt hot. Blake’s hold on her breast tightened as her eyelids opened in a squint.

“G’mornin’, baby,” Yang rasped, kissing the top of her head. “We slept in a little.”

“Hm,” Blake grunted, letting go of her and rolling onto her back. She flopped her arm over her head and sighed. “We did?”

Yang laughed a little. Blake was adorable when half-asleep. “We did.”

“Oh.” Blake closed her eyes again, stretching all of her limbs out. Yang watched unabashed, eyes roaming over skin. “I’m still tired.”

She punctuated the statement with a yawn, making Yang grin. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Shut up.” Blake relaxed back into the feather mattress, sidling back up to Yang and slipping an arm around her waist. “I’m not quite sure what you did to me, but I don’t think I _can _get up.”

“No rush. I’m comfortable where I’m at,” Yang replied smugly, wrapping an arm around her. Despite the rising temperature in the bedroom, all she wanted to do was keep holding Blake in her arms. “We can take a bath in a bit, if you want. I’ve got runnin’ water, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” A smile spread lazily across Blake’s face. “That would be nice.”

“I can make breakfast, too.”

“You spoil me,” Blake remarked, thumb brushing Yang’s side. “Are you trying to impress me or something?”

“Nah.” Yang chuckled. “I figure I do that just by… y’know. Being me.”

“Wow.” Blake tried to keep the smile out of her voice, but failed. “I take it back. I take it all back.”

“I don’t believe that.”

To prove her point, Yang sat up, leaning over Blake to kiss her. As she’d predicted, Blake returned the kiss eagerly, hands coming up to cup Yang’s face. She felt Blake’s smile against her lips, and Yang couldn’t help but smile back. They kissed slowly, tenderly. There was no hurry in it; they had all the time in the world, and the bliss between them was nearly a tangible thing. They sank into each other, Yang running a hand all over Blake’s skin. All of it felt too good.

So, too, did the bath. When they managed to pull themselves out of bed to get there, Blake sank into the water in front of Yang, settling herself between her legs and leaning back against her body. They took turns soaping each other up, a more innocent exploration of their bodies than what they’d done the night before. It felt nice simply to touch. Even after they finished scrubbing, they lay back, enjoying each other’s skin as the water began to cool around them.

“Maybe I only slept with you for the running water,” Blake mumbled, curling her legs into her chest.

“I knew it.” Yang brushed Blake’s damp hair away to kiss her neck. It was wet, and so smooth, and only slightly marked by Yang from the night before. “You fell in love with it the moment you used it for the first time.”

“Yep.” Blake’s lips twitched in a smile. “I knew I had to do whatever I had to do to enjoy it again.”

“Even when it involved leaving a terrorist group!” Yang added. She meant it as a joke, but it fell flat she said aloud. Blake stiffened against her.

“Shit,” she muttered, opening her eyes. “I really did, didn’t I?”

Sensing the need for comfort, Yang dropped her arms down to loop them around Blake’s waist, holding her closer, gratified when Blake huddled more tightly to her. “You’re okay now,” Yang murmured, kissing the top of her head. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“It isn’t just that.” Blake shuddered involuntarily and her ears flattened, and Yang began to rub her skin in soothing circles. “He’s… never liked it when people stood up to him. I know him. He’s gonna want revenge.”

“And he can try to take it. But he’ll have to get past me if he wants to get you. And nobody gets past me.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Blake pleaded quietly. “He’s been fighting his whole life. He knows what he’s doing.” She closed her eyes. “Gods… he was so angry.”

“What did he say?” Yang asked, tightening her grip. “Did he threaten you?”

“He… said that this wasn’t over.” She curled up into an even smaller ball, as if Yang’s arms were a sanctuary. “That I’d regret it.”

“Oh, baby,” Yang said softly, shifting a little to pull Blake fully into her lap, the water lapping lightly around them. She hoped she wasn’t feeling regret about the decision. She kissed her in an attempt at reassurance. “You did good. You were so brave. It was the right thing.”

“I… It’s…” Yang watched Blake’s mouth half-form around words she didn’t know how to say. She sighed. “I just… if anything happened to you… or Pyrrha or anyone else down at Crocea Mors… I don’t think I could forgive myself.”

“I’ll take care of him if he shows up,” Yang promised, meaning it with all her heart. “I swear.”

\---

It wasn’t something they really talked about. It just seemed to make sense, that Blake return to Yang’s house that night, and the night after. Each time, she brought over a fresh pair of clothes and more of her essentials. Yang enjoyed the soaps she brought, and even on the rare night that Blake didn’t stay with her, she took comfort in her smells of jasmine and lemongrass. It was like Blake was still there, in some way.

Not that Blake stayed away long. 

Yang picked up on the subtle cues of anxiety; the way Blake looked over her shoulder more often than usual, her quiet reluctance to walk down the street alone, the relieved sag of her shoulders as she closed Yang’s door behind her. For all that she said she was free, the ghost of Adam still seemed to follow her everywhere she went. She took comfort in Yang’s presence, and that comfort was something Yang was more than happy to give her.

“Could you teach me how to shoot?” Blake asked one night as they lay in bed, limbs tangled together beneath the bedsheet. Yang raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t know how?”

“Faunus aren’t allowed to have weapons,” she pointed out, smiling humorlessly. “I mean, the more… aggressive members of the White Fang do, but there weren’t many discreet places to practice in the city.”

“Oh, shit, that’s right.” Yang sat up, surprised that she’d forgotten. She’d just had to arrest a Faunus the day before for breaking that very law. “Well… yeah. Of course I’ll teach you.” To allay the tension in the air, Yang forced a smile. “You’re sleepin’ with the best teacher on Remnant.”

“You’re supposed to be the best shooter. I heard nothing about best teacher.”

“_Best shooter_ just sounds better than _best teacher_,” Yang replied, her grin easier now, “But I’m good at both. I’ll turn you into a gunslinger yet!”

Like she needed any further reasons to spend time with Blake. On the evenings that Blake wasn’t working, she and Yang would meet in the field where Yang held her demonstrations. Using her own revolvers, she taught Blake to shoot. As a beginner, she didn’t have the finesse that Yang had. Instead of only using one hand, Yang had her grip the revolver in both, holding it steady as she learned the basics.

“It’s beautiful,” Blake remarked on their first night, thumb brushing the engraven roses on the barrel. Lazily, Yang spun the remaining revolver around her finger. Since Blake was right-handed, she’d given Blake the right one to practice with.

“I told you they were my mom’s guns, right?” Yang asked, slipping her revolver into its holster. “She had them special-made. Her name was Summer Rose, so roses were her thing.”

“I remember you saying they were hers.” Blake looked back up, something sympathetic catching in her eyes. “Was she the one who taught you to shoot?”

“She started to, before she died,” Yang replied, smiling fondly at the dim memories. “She was, like… an actual huntress, basically. I know some folks around here like to call me _the Huntress_, but my mom was the real thing. Whenever people needed help dealing with Grimm, my mom would go to help. We lived out in the country, so there weren’t any armies around to help people deal with Grimm. It came down to folks like Mom.” She pushed herself off the fence line, coming over to place a hand on Blake’s waist. Automatically, Blake corrected her posture, straightening her back and holding her arms out. “Ruby was still a little too young to shoot when Mom died,” Yang went on, pressing a hand down on Blake’s shoulders to relax them. “My uncle brought home her guns and the news she’d been taken down by a herd of Goliaths. Gunslingers ain’t invincible, and I learned that young.”

“Oh, no,” Blake murmured, lowering the gun, looking stricken as she turned to Yang. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was years ago,” Yang replied, waving her hand dismissively. “We buried her, and I decided then that I’d pick up where she left off. Now, fix the target in your sight.”

Yang paused in her storytelling to adjust Blake’s posture again, though it was more for an excuse to touch her than anything else. She felt the curve of her hip under her hand, so warm. And Blake was still so _tense_ as she held Yang’s gun.

“Some folks think it’s better to shoot on an exhale,” she murmured into Blake’s ear. “So why don’t you give that a shot first?” She paused, then grinned. “Pun not intended.”

Blake blew an amused puff of air, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Can I go?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Blake took a deep breath, then released it. On the release, she fired a shot. Then another. Then another. She took the smallest of pauses in between shots, to breathe and release, to fix her aim. She jerked slightly with each shot, startled by the sound and power, but adjusted quickly. She never hit a bullseye, but each shot she took managed to hit the target. Six neat holes, spread across the paper of the target. Not bad for someone who’d never shot before.

“After Mom died, it made sense that I get the guns,” Yang told her, taking the gun to eject the casings and pop in fresh rounds. “I mean, it probably would’ve made sense for Ruby to get them-- Mom wasn’t actually my mom by blood, but she was to Ruby-- but Ruby never really picked it up like I did. She was always more into the close-combat stuff, always swingin’ a scythe around during the wheat harvest. She’s good with swords, and staffs, and that sort of thing, but never cared for guns that much. I was always better at it, anyway.”

She handed the gun back to Blake, who took it thoughtfully. “Summer wasn’t your blood mom?”

“My blood mom’s still alive, but I don’t think of her as a mom. Not really.” Yang shrugged, not letting herself think about Raven for too long. “Summer was the only mom that ever mattered.”

Blake wore a frown as she assumed the position again. Yang had a feeling she wasn’t off the hook as far as the unpleasant history of her parentage, but they could save that for another time. They _had _time, after all, Yang thought, more optimistically. With Blake out of the Fang, they had all the time in the world.

“Ruby’s gonna like you,” Yang told her when Blake had fired her six shots, steering the conversation away from Raven. “She’s supposed to come visit soon, once she gets back from her last drive. I’m tryin’ to convince Schnee to make her a deputy, but you know how he is.”

Blake wrinkled her nose. “I heard he picked your deputies out for you, right?”

“Yeah,” Yang sighed, taking her time in reloading the chambers so that Blake could see how it was done. “He has a habit of filling up important positions with his own folks. It’s all about makin’ his business partners happy, not about what the town actually needs.” She let out a small laugh. “Though I guess I’m a part of that problem, too. He handpicked me, and pays me from his own pocket. Most towns use taxes to pay for sheriffs and city workers, but not in Mantle. Here, we get paid by the Schnee Dust Company.”

“That’s… not right.”

“Tell me about it.” Yang was pleased that when she handed the gun back to Blake, she stood with a little more confidence, noticeably less tension in her body as she aimed.

This time, she managed to hit a bullseye.

Yang grinned, and clapped her on the back. “Good girl,” she murmured, and she could’ve sworn Blake’s bow twitched. Yang, amused by the reaction, fought back a smirk as she tucked that information away for later.

Life began to feel more domestic on the nights Blake stayed with her. Yang would pick her up at the saloon on the nights she worked, walking her back to her own house. They would talk about their day as they got ready for bed, though more often than not, conversations would trail off and lead somewhere that didn’t need words. There was so much pleasure to be found in each other’s bodies, and they were both eager to explore that. More than once, Yang only managed a few hours of sleep before racing to work on legs that hardly felt up to walking, leaving a sleeping Blake in bed.

“Y’know, you probably shouldn’t keep wastin’ money on the inn,” Yang told her one night, somewhat sheepishly. She was embarrassed at her own suggestion, and couldn’t look at Blake as brought it up, choosing instead to pull the chicken out of her cookstove. The wafting scent of rosemary filled the room as she set it atop the stove. “I mean, you spend most nights here, anyway.”

As Blake hadn’t worked that night, Yang had cooked up a small dinner for them, even setting the table with candles. She’d never been one be overly romantic, but maybe it’d had something to do with not having the right person to romance. She certainly did now.

“I _was_ looking for a boarding house before,” Blake told her, and Yang sensed amusement as she made herself turn around to look at her. “But so many of them were more like dorms… and I didn’t really want to risk being found out, y’know?”

“So?” Yang could feel herself blush as she leaned against the wall. Blake laughed.

“Yang,” Blake said patiently, her grin spreading. “I kinda… stopped paying for my room days ago.”

Yang’s eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t even thought about it, but it had been nearly a week since Blake had last stayed at the inn. It had been such a seamless transition that she hadn’t even noticed that _all _of Blake’s clothes had migrated to Yang’s house, as well as all of her other things.

It wasn’t something they really talked about. They didn’t need to. Blake moving in with her just made sense.

“Already?” Weiss asked days later, upon her return from Argus. Though it was still fairly early in the morning, Weiss’s office was dark, the curtains drawn. She was prone to headaches, and Yang wondered if the stress of travel might have set one off. Weiss rubbed her temples, scowling, as she began her interrogation. “She’s been here… what? A few weeks? And she’s already living with you?”

“Well, she was practically livin’ with me already,” Yang drawled, leaning back in her chair, knees sprawled out. Weiss looked at her posture with distaste. “It seemed right.”

“And what are you going to do when you’re done with her? Throw her out on the street?”

“Ouch,” Yang replied with a wince, bringing her knees back together as she sat up. “That’s harsh, Weiss.”

“It’s the truth, though.” Weiss set her elbows on her desk and folded her hands together, resting her chin on them. “I know you, Yang. I saw how it went down with Arslan. And Nebula. Every time someone gets too close, you push them away.”

“It’s different with Blake,” Yang said defensively, scowling. “She… she’s different.”

She searched for words to explain it. How was she supposed to explain the way things fell together so easily? It was something she still hardly understood herself. There was a peace in her heart when Blake slept beside her at night, a peace she’d never known with anyone else. She felt all of her being was refined every time Blake looked at her with that soft expression, like her soul would burst at her kiss. There were no easy words or explanation for it. It was as right as a storm in a desert. She was nourished, just in knowing her.

“Uh-huh,” Weiss said, eyes narrowing. She stared at Yang a moment longer, then dropped the bomb. “You know she’s a Faunus, right?”

The sweet musings about Blake dropped right out of her stomach at Weiss’s question. She opened her mouth, trying to form a question, but wordless sounds bubbled out and died on her lips. Weiss rolled her eyes.

“Of course you do,” she muttered to herself, opening a drawer and pulling out a few sheets of paper. “You’ve been fucking her. Of course you’d know.”

Yang’s fingers twitched to her holsters on instinct, though she didn’t draw the guns. “How-- how did you--?”

“Like I was going to let you get away with not telling me why she wasn’t on the autotrain,” Weiss sniffed. She slid the papers across the desk. The top sheet had a photograph-- a mugshot, really-- of Blake. She looked thin, almost frail in the grainy photograph, eyes sunken in, eyes narrowed in a furious glare. Yang frowned at the exposed ears, the dark shadow of a bruise on her left cheek.

_BLAKE BELLADONNA -- FAUNUS _

It was a rap sheet, Yang realized, reading the convictions. Fortunately, none of it was as dire as she’d feared; she’d been arrested during a riot (a _public disturbance_, it read), probably one of many Faunus arrested that day. She checked the date. She vaguely recalled hearing of a Faunus riot in Argus before she’d ever moved to Mantle. There had been reports that the lawmen had used dogs, Dust-gas, and batons on the protestors in the streets that day. She grimaced, thinking of Blake among them. If only she’d known then what she knew now…

“Well?” Weiss asked impatiently.

Yang looked up, narrowing her eyes. “Who’ve you told?”

“No one,” Weiss snapped. “Not yet, anyway.” Her white brows furrowed. The way the scar moved made her look harder than she was. “I wanted to talk to you first. You’re the sheriff. Please tell me you’ve had a reason for keeping this quiet.”

Yang heaved a sigh of relief, that the secret was still safe. “Yeah,” she said. She’d been holding her breath, and her words came out in a breathless sigh. “Yeah.” She cleared her throat, then flipped through the papers. More rap sheets, more mugshots. One of them noted, _Suspected member of the White Fang_. There would have been no way Weiss would’ve missed that. “Shit,” she said, trying to deflect. “Did you seriously go through arrest records?”

“The kennels there are very organized,” Weiss said, giving the papers a short nod. “And the family name has its perks,” she admitted. “Everyone was quite eager to show me how to look a name up.”

“You went straight to the kennels?” Yang asked, eyebrows lifting. Had Blake seemed that much like an ex-con that Weiss would search the Argus jailhouse for her records? Weiss shook her head.

“I tried the library first, and looked up census records. I couldn’t find her name there, so I figured the next step was to see if she had a criminal history.”

“You… really wanted to know, huh?” Yang asked, surprised at Weiss’s determination. The corner of Weiss’s mouth curled.

“I don’t like it when people keep secrets from me,” she replied delicately. “Now tell me the truth about it.”

Yang took a deep breath. This could very well mean the end of Blake’s time in Mantle, but Yang knew without even thinking that if Blake left, so would she. Already, she was trying to conjure up plans in her mind-- packing wouldn’t take long, and she knew a couple people who were selling horses. She had enough money to buy one for Blake, and then they could get out of town. It would only come down to the question of if Weiss would give them time to go. She bit her lip.

“You know how it is for Faunus here,” Yang told her haltingly. “After she… told me, I wasn’t about to force her to reveal herself.”

“Okay,” Weiss said, indicating for her to continue.

“She…" Yang hesitated. How much could she tell Weiss? "I… I need your word that if you don't like what I tell you, you'll give us time to get out of town."

"What?" This clearly hadn't been what Weiss had expected. She sat back, staring at her with such an incredulous look that, had the circumstances been less dire, Yang might have laughed.

“Look, Weiss… some bad stuff was going down with Blake, but she’s done with it all now, okay? I can promise you that.”

Slowly, Weiss leaned back in, looking as though she were bracing herself. She considered, then nodded. “Explain.”

“She… _is_ a Faunus,” Yang began, eyes intent on Weiss’s expression. She wondered, if necessary, if she was prepared to restrain Weiss in some way while she made a run for it. “And… she was caught up in some bad things.”

“Bad things?” Weiss repeated, face unchanging.

“But as I said, she’s done with it. She’s left them. She’s… done with that part of her life.”

“Don’t beat around the bush,” Weiss said warningly. “I’m going to let you say your piece before I decide anything. I’m trusting you here, Yang.” She paused, her scarred left eye suddenly squinting, and she pressed her palm over it. Yang bit her lip, but Weiss went on. “So out with it.”

“She… was put on the train to spy on us, to get information about the workings of Mantle. For the White Fang.”

Yang held her breath as she watched Weiss process the information. The one uncovered eye widened. “Are you _kidding_?” Weiss hissed. Yang shook her head.

“She told me she didn’t give them anything useful,” she added quickly. “She doesn’t like how your dad runs things, but she’s also met some good humans in town. She doesn’t want to do anything to hurt them. So she left.”

“She left… the White Fang?” Weiss asked, clearly disbelieving. She uncovered her eye, though she kept it closed. Not for the first time, Yang wondered about the nature of her old injury. “People don’t just quit the White Fang,” Weiss continued, her good eye fixed on Yang. “How do you know she isn’t lying?”

Yang hesitated, trying to fight back her temper. It was a reasonable question, but one that couldn’t be answered with a simple _I trust her_. Fortunately, there was other evidence.

“You didn’t see how scared she was the night she left,” she replied quietly, remembering the way Blake had slammed the door shut behind her when she entered Yang’s house. “She’s worried about her… leader. Coming after her.”

“Those are all things someone could easily act,” Weiss pointed out.

“And…” Yang looked at Weiss again. She hadn’t wanted to bring this next part up, but she thought about the way Weiss covered her eye. “Her old… leader. Used to beat her. But since she left… she hasn’t been bruised up again. Or hurt. And people who do that sort of thing don’t tend to just stop, at least for the sake of some... convoluted scheme.” She smiled crookedly. Trying to get Adam to stop hurting her would have meant that Blake would have had to explain why Yang would have noticed the bruises in the first place. From what she knew, he wouldn’t have liked that explanation at all.

Weiss’s expression didn’t change, but she finally opened her other eye. She was silent for a long moment, fingers twitching on the top of her desk. “I suppose you have a point there,” she agreed grudgingly, folding her arms restlessly. “People like that… don’t just stop.”

Maybe it was something Weiss understood too well. Maybe it was as plain as the scar on her face. There was no temper left in Yang anymore, only sadness, for the woman who apparently considered her a friend.

“So what’re you gonna do?” Yang asked quietly.

Weiss furrowed her brows, thinking. “You… personally guarantee that she’s no longer affiliated with the White Fang?” she said at last, and Yang let herself hope.

“I do.”

Weiss fell silent again, worrying her bottom lip. This was the kind of information that could have Blake swinging from the gallows without a second thought. The townsfolk wouldn’t care that Blake had left the White Fang. Enough of them still burned with hatred for what happened to the autotrain, or for past attacks in other towns. They’d take great pleasure in hanging her.

“If she betrays us,” Weiss told her, firm in her resolve, “I won’t keep this a secret. Agreed?”

Yang frowned, but nodded as she mulled it over again. If she had even the smallest hint of doubt, she wouldn’t have agreed, but she remembered the look in Blake’s eye when she’d told Yang, _I’m free_. There was no doubt.

“Agreed.”

Weiss rose and extended a hand. Yang leapt up, shaking her hand vigorously. She could have fallen to her knees with relief, with thanks. Instead, she nodded.

“Thank you, Weiss.”

Weiss shrugged. “I don’t know why you couldn’t have chosen someone more… _traditional_,” she muttered. Yang raised an eyebrow.

“You mean _human_?”

“No,” Weiss said sharply, giving her a glare. “I _meant _a non-criminal.” She sighed. “Look. I had an… acquaintance, back when we lived in Atlas. Very well-known for starting all the latest fashion trends. It turned out, she was in a relationship with one of her maids. A Faunus. I met her a few times, always very courteous.”

“What happened?” Yang asked, dreading the answer. Weiss rolled her eyes.

“They moved to Vale so they could get married. It was the _biggest _scandal we’d had in years, but from what I hear, Coco seems to be doing well up there. She’s never been the kind of person to be afraid of a little scandal. Like the year she started wearing berets, of all things, I was sure she was going to make a fool of herself, but now…” Weiss shrugged. “They seem to be very happy.”

It was so strange, to hear of a happy ending for a human and a Faunus. She wondered, briefly, if that might be the sort of future she and Blake could look forward to. Though she couldn’t even imagine it yet, a ghost of a smile flickered across her face. It was a smile that Weiss didn’t return.

Maybe, Yang realized, she owed Weiss a little for this kindness. Maybe she could do something to bring a little joy to Weiss’s lonely world.

“Come out with us sometime,” Yang said. Weiss blinked, taken aback.

“Pardon?”

“Blake works at Crocea Mors. It’s a good crowd there.” Yang pulled her hand back, folding her arms and trying to give Weiss a smile. “There are always musicians on the weekends. Prob’ly a little different than you’re used to, but you need to get out your office now and then.”

“Oh.” Yang bit back a smile at the way Weiss’s cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink. “That… might be nice.”

“I might be a little biased, but I’d hang out with the folks at the saloon over the wealthy pricks any day!” Yang told her confidently, then hastily added, “You’re not one of them, though. A prick.”

Weiss rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop a small smile from twitching to life. “Because your opinion matters so much to me,” she replied dryly. Yang laughed, and turned to go. “Wait, Yang-- there’s something else.”

The smile that had appeared on Weiss’s face was gone by the time she picked up another sheet of paper off her desk. She handed it to Yang. “What’s this?”

“There was… an incident, pretty late last night,” she said, almost apologetically.

Yang skimmed the report, the lightness of her mood weighing back down as she digested the information. “Shit,” she muttered. 

She recognized the name Maximilian Eclectus, a young man who’d been a thorn in her side since he’d moved to Mantle. He was the young heir of the Eclectus Dust Refineries, and one of the people who’d participated in the Faunus lynchings that had happened months ago.

On this report, he was the victim. Apparently, he’d been beaten on his way home from a saloon the night before. By a Faunus.

She hadn’t needed to finish the report to know what the Faunus’s punishment would be.

“Shit,” she repeated softly.

\--

Instead of going straight to the town hall, Yang headed home. Blake would still be there, maybe even still in bed. It was still somewhat early, and Blake had worked late the night before.

But Blake was awake, still in her nightshirt, watching a kettle on the stove. When Yang opened the door, she spun around, alarmed, until she realized who it was. She visibly relaxed, smiling a little in relief. Seeing the look on Yang’s face, it fell into a frown.

“Everything okay?” she asked, coming over. Yang bent, brushing her lips with a quick kiss, hoping it was reassuring.

“It’s… been a rough morning,” she admitted. Blake kissed her again, and now Yang was the one who took comfort from it.

“What happened?”

“Weiss knows.”

“What?”

Hurriedly, Yang filled her in, watching as Blake’s eyes widened with fear and narrowed with suspicion. Weiss’s last name was enough to strike fear into the hearts of most Faunus, and Blake was no exception. Even when the kettle started to whistle, Blake didn’t seem to hear it. She only stared at Yang in horror.

“Blake,” Yang said softly. “She isn’t gonna tell anyone. She’s keeping your secret.”

“How can I trust her?” Blake nearly spat. If she had hackles, Yang knew they’d be up. She spun on her heel, angrily grabbing a potholder and moving the kettle off the burner. “She’s a Schnee. Her father is _killing_ us. _Torturing _us. We can’t trust her.”

“I think… I think she’s different than Schnee,” Yang told her soothingly. “She’s known about you since she found your records in Argus, right? And she hasn’t told anyone yet.”

“Schnees are all the same.” Blake was shaking as she poured water over her tea. Seeing this, Yang strode across the room, gently prying the kettle from Blake’s hands.

“Baby,” she murmured, setting it aside. “It’ll be okay.”

“How can you say it’s okay?! She’ll… she’ll blackmail me. Or use it against me somehow. Or she’ll--” Blake stopped when Yang enveloped her in her arms. At first, Blake stiffened, but sank into Yang’s frame and buried her face into her shoulder.

“You think I’m gonna let her blackmail you?” Yang asked quietly, rubbing her back. “I think she has a little more sense than to try blackmailing someone who lives with the Solitas Dragon.”

For all her worry, Blake snorted where she was hiding her face. Still, her voice shook as she spoke. “That’s probably the most ridiculous nickname you’ve got.”

“Ouch. Why’d you gotta be so mean to me?” Yang slid her fingers into Blake’s hair, still tangled from sleep. Even tangled, it was still so soft. Blake sighed, relaxing a little more in Yang’s embrace. “Look, if Weiss gives us trouble, I’ll saddle up Bumblebee and we’ll be out of town in a minute. I’ll go with you, and we’ll never have to think about Mantle again.”

“Really?” Blake pulled back, looking up at Yang with surprise. “You’d leave Mantle?”

“If it means keeping you safe, I’d even leave now.” Yang smiled down at her, combing Blake’s hair with her fingers. “But… I think Weiss is on our side. Or, at least, she doesn’t want people hurt for no reason.”

“But the branding--”

“She told me once that she doesn’t care much for branding,” Yang said. “All of that was her dad’s idea, and she can’t really fight her dad. I don’t think anyone can.”

“I hate him,” Blake told her fervently, a quiet rage seething in her words. “I can’t tell you how much I hate him.”

“I know, baby.” Yang pulled Blake back in, kissing the top of her head. “So do I.”

“He’s… so _evil_,” she added. She gave a compulsive shudder. “If… If he found out about me… he’d have me killed.”

“Which is why he won’t find out,” Yang promised. “He ain’t gonna lay a hand on you. I’ll get us out of town if it gets to that point.”

“Okay,” Blake said softly.

They fell silent for a moment, the gravity of that thought holding them down and binding them together. The idea of Schnee, and his willingness to execute Faunus, only reminded Yang of the other thing she needed to tell Blake. She had to tell her, before she found out on her own. “There’s… one more thing,” she said slowly. “When I was at Weiss’s office, I also found out… that Schnee signed the order for an execution today. For a Faunus man.”

“What?” For the second time, Blake pulled back, looking into Yang’s eyes searchingly. “Why?”

“The report says he attacked a human. Beat the shit out of him, it looks like.” Yang sucked in her teeth, then added, “But I know the guy who was beaten up. I’d bet my guns that he provoked the Faunus.”

Blake groaned softly, shaking her head. “That’s Faunus justice for you,” she remarked bitterly.

“And…” Yang hesitated, wishing she didn’t have to say the next part. “As the town’s sheriff… I’m the one who has to do it.”

Her heart hurt as Blake drew back, as if recoiling. She stared at Yang in disbelief. “You… have to kill him?”

Yang’s throat felt dry as she nodded.

“Can’t you… save him, somehow?” Blake asked, though the hopelessness in her tone told Yang that she already knew the answer. Yang shook her head.

“I’ve got no choice. The order came from Schnee, and I can’t fight him.”

“You could help the man escape,” Blake pleaded, grasping at straws. She would have known that there’d be no point in trying.

“I could, and I could lose my job. Maybe even get executed myself,” Yang replied softly. “And if I refuse, they’ll just hang him anyway, and I’d still be out of a job. Then I wouldn’t be able to do _anything_ for the people here.” She paused before adding an angry, “Not that I do much, anyway.”

There was sadness in Blake’s eyes, but she approached Yang again, slipping her arms around her waist. “I get it,” she murmured. Now _she_ was the one trying to offer comfort, and Yang was grateful for it, even though she knew she didn’t deserve it. She leaned in, resting her chin on Blake’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Yang whispered. She felt Blake’s hand on her back, caressing her.

“It’s… harder for the Faunus who didn’t grow up here, I guess” she explained, defeated. “I’ve lived in Argus, and Atlas, and a few other cities down here for over a decade. I’ve gotten used to it. Humans trying to pick fights with us in the streets. Calling us names. I’ve had friends beaten bloody, but they couldn’t do a thing about it because they knew they’d get arrested if they tried to fight back.”

“Shit,” Yang muttered, and Blake huffed in what might have been an empty laugh.

“You get used to humans calling you like an animal, or making animal sounds at you. If I had a lien for every time some smartass yelled _here, kitty kitty_ at me, I'd be a wealthy woman." Blake’s ears twitched, tickling Yang’s cheek. “It’s revolting, having humans yelling at you to meow for them.”

“Gods.” Yang grimaced. “That’s… that’s sick.”

“But it’s something I got used to,” Blake told her, sighing. “But for Faunus who are fresh here from Menagerie? Of course they’re not going to be used to it. I… can’t really say I’m surprised that someone’s lashed out, and I’m even less surprised that they’re being punished for it.” She paused. “I… I just wish it wasn’t you that had to do it.”

Yang squeezed her eyes shut. She’d executed Faunus before. She’d escorted them from the kennels to the gallows, hung a noose around their throat, and opened the trapdoor beneath their feet. Before, she’d always tried to rationalize it. They were criminals, she’d tell herself. They’d known they were breaking the law, so they had to accept the consequences. But she knew better. She’d always known better.

“I’m so sorry,” was all Yang could say. For what she had to do. For what she’d already done. 

It was more than she deserved, when Blake only continued to rub her back. “I know,” she murmured. “I know.”

The execution itself wouldn’t be for another few days. There would be a sham of a hearing, which never favored the Faunus. It was hard for a Faunus to win a case in Mantle, where the laws could change to fit the whims of the elite. Yang was always in attendance at these hearings, and though sentencing was out of her control, she always listened and cringed. Jacques had a way with making his flowery words seem palatable to any listeners, erasing any doubt they might have had. Yang had never seen a hearing overturn the requested execution.

This one was no different.

The Faunus man in question, Sebastian Silvius, had a massive horn on the center of his forehead, and Jacques started the hearing with the loud question of whether or not the horn could be used as a weapon.

“Maybe we should grind it down,” he suggested, “for the safety of our sheriff and her deputies.”

She saw Silvius’s eyes widen in horror, and Yang was quick to jump to her feet, saying, “That’s not necessary, sir. There ain’t much he could actually do with it.”

“Very well,” he sighed. “Bring in the first witness.”

For the next few hours, Yang listened to several different versions of the attack. Funnily, none of them went into much detail as to why the attack actually occurred. The fact that these witnesses reported seeing Silvius holding a dagger was damning. Faunus weren’t supposed to even own weapons, so the number of witnesses who’d seen this man brandishing one was a death sentence on its own. Even if Yang had spoken up, saying that she knew how Silvius had been attacked first, it wouldn’t have done any good. It didn’t matter.

Several times, Silvius opened his mouth to speak, to argue, but he was always silenced.

His word didn’t matter, after all. He was a Faunus.

The night before the execution, Yang was more quiet than she usually was. Blake picked up on that, letting her have her silence as they lay in bed. Yang knew she had no right to be sulky about it; these were Blake’s people, not her own. She should have been the one to offer Blake comfort, not the other way around.

“I don’t want you to be there,” she said to the darkness, not looking at Blake. “They’re not… very pretty.”

“I’ve seen hangings before. They make a spectacle out of them in the cities.”

“You’ve never seen me as executioner, though.”

Blake was quiet for a moment, though she found Yang’s hand beneath the blanket. She laced their fingers together and stroked the skin of Yang’s hand with her thumb. “I’m not going to let you do this alone,” she said decisively.

“I’ve done it on my own before.”

“Only because you had to. But you’re not alone anymore, baby,” Blake replied, her soft voice determined. “I’ll be there. For you. You don’t need to be alone at hangings.” She paused. “Though, just to be clear… it’s not you I’m mad at. I… understand your hands are tied.”

Yang sighed, squeezing Blake’s fingers. She’d be lying if she’d said that idea hadn’t concerned her, that she hadn’t feared that Blake would hate her. “I’m sorry,” she said, like an apology would fix anything.

“It’s not your fault. You’re just doing your job.”

“But it… it ain’t right.” Yang squeezed her eyes shut, still troubled. “If it had been the other way around… if a human had beaten up a Faunus, he wouldn’t even have to stay in the kennels. I tried to do that to a man once. When I first moved here. I tried to lock up a man-- a human-- who was picking on a Faunus. He was drunk, and making threats. So I locked him up. But Schnee came ‘round just a couple hours later and made me let him go.” She clenched her jaw. “Gods, I hate how he runs this fuckin’ town.”

She rolled onto her side, not wanting to meet Blake’s eyes. She hated to be seen as someone so powerless, so weak. She wasn’t the fierce, independent gunslinger that people in saloons loved to toast. When it came down to it, she was no more than a pawn. She felt Blake scoot closer and her hand stroke the bare skin of her back, rubbing it lengthwise. 

“He hired me because he said people listen to gunslingers,” Yang went on, closing her eyes. “But when he comes ‘round and sabotages every law I try to enforce…” She shook her head, bitterness engulfing her spirit.

“Then make _him_ listen,” Blake told her. Goosebumps ran down Yang’s neck. Her lips were so close to Yang’s ear, her breath warm.

“He’d never listen to me.”

“But people listen to gunslingers, don’t they?”

“Not the rich and powerful.” Yang sighed, enjoying the way Blake began to stroke her hair. “Rich people don’t have to listen to anyone.”

“They would if they were outnumbered.”

Yang frowned. She turned around, rolling back reluctantly to look Blake in the eye. “Outnumbered? By what?”

“Think of all the people in this town,” Blake said softly, cupping Yang’s cheek in her hand. “Not all of them like Schnee. I hear things at work, y’know. They’re sick of his… favoritism. His weird laws. The way he gets _away _with things.” She bit her lip. “I know you’d have _their _support, if you… tried to do something.”

“Do something,” Yang repeated. She didn’t know if the word _coup _would be right when it came to a town’s mayor, but it came down to the same thing. 

Blake thumbed her cheek. “You said yourself… people listen to gunslingers. And most of the common folk here _like _you, Yang. If anyone could change something… it’d be you.”

Change. It was a concept that had been on Yang’s mind from the minute she’d come to Mantle. She’d had so many hopes, but one by one, Schnee had shot those hopes down with his own desires and goals. He overrode her when it came to his own people breaking the law. She’d watched laws she’d made be overturned. He went out of his way to brand Faunus behind her back.

There was certainly an appeal to Blake’s suggestion.

“I… I can’t just… overthrow him,” Yang said, laughing nervously. “I can’t just walk into the town square and say, _attention, if you think Schnee’s a shitshow, raise your hand_. Then _I’ll _get arrested.”

“I’m not saying it’s something we need to do right now,” Blake reassured her, golden eyes amused. “But it’s something to think about, right?”

“I don’t know,” Yang said doubtfully, making a face. “Most people seem fine to let things be. Most humans don’t seem to care enough to rock the boat. And the Faunus hate me just for working for him.”

“I don’t hate you,” Blake replied with a small smile. Yang snorted.

“Yeah, well, you’re a special case. But most Faunus do. Hell, even you tried to hate me at first.”

“They wouldn’t hate you if you actually started changing things for them,” Blake insisted. “I’m sure they had _some _sort of appreciation for you when you stopped the brandings.”

“And then forgot about it when Schnee started them up again. I’m just a villain to them again. And tomorrow, when I hang one of them, I’ll be even more of one.”

Yang didn’t fight her when Blake pulled her close. Yang rested her head on her shoulder, trying to stave off the waves of self-pity that threatened to drown her. She had no right to self-pity, she told herself. She wasn’t the one who was sentenced to die the next day. She wasn’t the one who’d ever experienced oppression. If only she was a little stronger, maybe she _could _bring about the change Blake was suggesting. A Mantle with no whippings, no beatings, no brandings.

She wondered what it would look like.

The next day was cloudy, and there was a heaviness in the air that promised rain. All of it fit Yang’s mood. The execution was set for noon, and she almost hoped that it would be raining by that time. The rare desert storms were usually enough to keep people inside, and a smaller crowd would lessen the humiliation of the condemned.

But it didn’t stop a crowd from forming that afternoon. Already, there was a small throng of people waiting outside the kennels, eager to escort the condemned to the gallows. It was sick, how the privileged of Mantle treated hangings like a damned circus. She scanned the crowd, making sure none of them had brought things to throw. They’d tried to throw rotten vegetables at her first hanging, but a quick threat of her guns had put an end to it quickly. Still, it was always good to be sure.

Flanked by her deputies, Yang led Silvius down the street, his arms tied behind his back. He watched, wide-eyed, as the crowd followed them. Yang couldn’t imagine what it was like for him. It was hard enough to listen to the taunts and jeers as the sheriff. What was it like, to endure so much hate from so many people?

No wonder so many were driven to the White Fang.

The gallows was tall, but not as high up as some of the ones she’d seen in the bigger cities. The fancier city gallows were so high that the hanging was merciful; the drop was sharp and quick, breaking the neck of the condemned before they had much time to suffer. Here, the drop was shorter, dirtier. This would be a death by strangulation.

Not that the citizens of Mantle complained. There was a manic hum in the crowd, eager to see the suffering of someone they were taught to hate. 

Very few Faunus ever came to the hangings, but there were a few on the edges of the crowd, staying away from the more volatile people. They watched silently, eyes sad as Yang led him over the trapdoor. She gave a nod to the pastor, who read the man his final rites. 

Silvius nodded distantly, only half-listening. Faunus typically weren’t as religious as humans, or rather, they worshipped in a different way. They didn’t focus on the Faunus hatred in the same way humans did. And why would they? They had to deal with enough oppression in their day-to-day lives that adding it to their spiritual lives would have been pointless.

Fitting the sack over his head would have proved to be a challenge, what with the long horn on his forehead, but Yang had already come up with a solution. She’d cut a large opening near the top of the sack, and fit it around the horn. 

“I’m sorry,” she told the man quietly. He was trembling, but did not reply. A response would have been as useless as the apology she’d given him.

She slid the noose around his neck, trying not to be too heavy-handed in its tightening. Still, it had to be tight enough. Too loose, and he’d only suffer more. She stepped back, hand gripping the lever.

She felt a raindrop on her face. Rain at last. The crowd began to grumble in complaint. Many of them had come prepared with umbrellas and hats, scarves and hoods. Some of the people in the front of the crowd hadn’t bothered with any, yet didn’t seem to notice the coming storm. One of them, Yang noted curiously, was Eclectus himself. He’d apparently recovered enough to join his friends in the front, waving their fists and yelling obscenities at Silvius.

In the back, silent, was Blake. Her dark brows were furrowed, and she held a simple umbrella over her head. Yang hesitated, heart clenching at the sad look in Blake’s eyes. But she had no choice.

“May the gods have mercy on your soul,” the pastor said solemnly, pulling up the hood of his robes as he spoke. He nodded at Yang, who pulled the lever.

Hangings were never pretty, and Yang kept her eyes averted from Silvius as he fell through the trapdoor. She knew he’d kick, he’d thrash. She heard the whooping from the crowd, the cheers. Yang tried not to focus on them. Instead, she kept her eyes on Blake, who met them with a level gaze. It was grounding amid the chaos.

As the man stopped flailing, the crowd began to lose interest, though Eclectus hollered, “Hey, sheriff, can I have his horn?”

Yang’s lips pursed. Though Silvius no longer thrashed, she knew he may yet live. It was vile, how Eclectus could ask a question like that before the man was fully dead. Maybe some part of Silvius was still aware enough to hear the question. She suppressed a shudder.

“If you so much as touch a hair on his head,” Yang warned, breaking her eye contact with Blake to give Eclectus a disgusted glare, “You’re gonna see another bruisin’.”

Eclectus paled, muttered something to his friends, spat at the ground beneath the hanged man, and stormed away.

Thunder rumbled overhead, and the rain came down thick. Blake didn’t move, staying in place even as the crowd churned around her, running for cover. Now that the show was over, everyone was eager to get back inside. The wealthier ones were able to slip into their autocars and drive away, while the more common folk had to dart back through town. Already, puddles were flooding the flat streets. 

Yang pulled off her hat, closed her eyes, and tilted her head back, as if the rain might purify her of the day’s deed.

When the man was confirmed dead, she dismissed Luke and Henry. She spoke briefly with the coroner and helped load the body into the back of his wagon. The coroner was a good man, and didn’t take bribes for horns or antlers of the Faunus dead. She tipped him a silver lien, even though she knew he got paid well for his work. It always helped to reward kindness, she thought.

She’d expected Blake to have gone home by the time she was done, but as soon as the coroner’s wagon pulled away, Blake approached. She held out her umbrella, looking Yang over with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re gonna get sick if you don’t get out of the rain,” she remarked. Yang shrugged.

“I’m already wet. An umbrella ain’t gonna do me much good.”

Blake held the umbrella above her anyway. She took Yang by the arm, leading her away from the gallows. They stepped around puddles as best they could, Blake picking up her skirts whenever they were unavoidable. Usually, rain in the desert was a cause for celebration, but today, it felt like judgement. The sky was black and unforgiving, and Yang felt it was all meant for her.

When they got back to the house, Blake stopped in the entryway, shaking out her umbrella outside the front door. Yang hung her hat on the hook and wiped her hands absently on her pants before fumbling with her belt buckle.

In the background, she was vaguely aware of Blake filling the kettle up and setting it on one of the burners. Yang didn’t usually run the stove during the day, but Blake started it back up with a press of a button, a spark of Fire Dust catching on the wood inside. With the chill in the air, the warmth was welcome. Setting her gunbelt on the table, Yang sank into a chair with a groan.

“No, go get changed,” Blake said firmly, nodding in the direction of the bedroom. “You are not going to stay in those wet things.”

“They’ll dry,” Yang said, waving a hand. Blake huffed.

“And then you’ll get sick, which none of us need right now.” Her eyes softened, and she came back over to Yang, resting a hand on her shoulder. “There’s no need to punish yourself by making yourself sick.”

“It’s not punishing myself,” Yang grumbled, even as she began to unbutton her shirt. “I’m not _that _bad.”

“Maybe not consciously.” Blake waited until the last button had been undone, and she helped peel the wet fabric off Yang’s skin. “But that’s basically what you were doing.” She stuck her thumb in the direction of the bedroom. “Go get changed. No, wait. A bath first. A hot one.”

“I need to get back to work--”

“And nobody is gonna come looking for you in the rain. You’ve at least got until the storm lightens up a little more,” Blake said as Yang turned back to her. She stroked her fingers through Yang’s wet hair, and Yang automatically closed her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. Blake’s fingers stopped mid-stroke. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to do it.”

“I’m not mad at you for it, Yang.” She cupped the back of Yang’s neck, who leaned in, resting her forehead against Blake’s stomach and wrapping her arms around her waist. “This runs so much deeper than you.”

“But I still took part. I knew it wasn’t right, but I did it anyway.”

Blake’s hands slid around her shoulders, fingers gentle as she brushed the muscles there. “He would have done it, with or without you,” she replied quietly. “You said that yourself.”

“I know.” Yang sighed, breathing in Blake’s sweet smells of rain and lemongrass. “I… I need to figure out something. How to stop this from happening again.” Her mind replayed the look in Silvius’s eyes, over and over. His sadness, his fear. Before Blake, it had been so much easier to detach from the Faunus. Before, she could almost forget that someone like Silvius had been anything other than a criminal. But in knowing Blake, she could only be reminded that he _had _been more. He’d had a family, friends, hopes and dreams. He was as real as Blake was, and now his life had been snuffed out.

It hit too close to home now. Yang had been a fool, to try and forget their humanity.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again, burying her face against Blake.

“I know.”

They stayed there for a moment, listening to the rain splatter heavily against the roof. In the distance, barely perceptible to Yang’s ears, was a rumble of thunder. Blake was truly better than she deserved, Yang thought drearily. The Faunus had every right to hate her, but here Blake was, rubbing Yang’s shoulders like she’d done nothing wrong.

“You’re cold,” Blake told her, pulling back a little. Yang released her, slumping back in her chair. “I’ll start up a bath for you.”

Yang managed a half-smile. “You’re too good to me,” she remarked. Blake smiled back.

“I care about you,” she replied simply. She paused. “You have a good heart. I’m glad Schnee didn’t crush it.”

Yang smiled weakly. Steam began to rise out of the kettle in a light trickle. Tea sounded like a good idea.

She’d think of something. There had to be a way to relax the laws where the Faunus were concerned. It wasn’t right, that Schnee’s people could get away with things that would get a Faunus hung. None of it was right, and she had known that from the start. In not doing anything about it, she’d failed her town.

She had to make amends.

She rose, and gave Blake a light kiss. “I care about you, too,” she said. It sounded sweet to say, and it had been even better to hear from Blake. “That’s why I’m gonna figure this out. I’m gonna fix this. I’m… I’m not going to let anything bad happen to the Faunus. To _you_.”

“I know,” Blake replied. She kissed her again, and Yang found strength in her confidence. It filled her with a determination. What happened today wouldn’t happen again.

But it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not be updating next Friday, as I've got family visiting from out of state. But! I may post previews on my twitter, so follow me there if you're into that sort of thing. The next couple chapters are gonna get into that angst, so prepare yourselves!
> 
> In the meantime, feel free to leave comments, send me asks, etc! I'll still be around in some way. See you in a couple weeks!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: A little smut, and then violence later.

“Y’know, going into work on my night off isn’t exactly restful,” Blake said, amused. They walked down the street, arm in arm, just as the Dust-powered streetlamps began to flicker on.

“Well, we’re not goin’ there for _rest_,” Yang replied with a grin. “I’ve been wantin’ to take you _dancing_!”

To demonstrate her point, she swung their linked arms, making Blake laugh. “I’m almost afraid to see you on the dance floor.”

“Are you kiddin'? I’m a _great _dancer! I bet all the girls are gonna be jealous of you.”

“If you step on my foot even once--”

“Which _won’t _happen--”

“You’ll be sleeping with Bumblebee,” Blake teased, squeezing Yang’s arm. “Seriously. Your boots could break my feet.”

“These are my dancin’ boots.”

“Those are your _everything _boots.”

“Which includes dancin’!” It was so nice to hear Blake laugh again. She was worried that after the execution, such sounds would be scarce. It had only been a couple days, and already, things were back to normal. Yang wondered if it was somehow disrespectful to the Faunus man’s memory, but Yang had never been the type to dwell on depressing matters.

A little dancing would be good for the mood, too.

They swung the doors open, and Crocea Mors was already filling with familiar faces. In the corner, Penny Polendina was playing out something fast and peppy on the piano, though nobody braved the dance floor yet. Once people had a little more to drink, they would trickle onto it until it was packed. It was something Yang had often done on her weekends, but she couldn’t remember being so excited for it before.

Instead of heading right to the dance floor, Yang led Blake to the bar and pulled out a couple stools. Nora’s eyes glinted when she saw their approach, promptly ducking behind the counter to grab them some mugs.

“The two lovebirds emerge from their nest!” she teased, filling up their mugs without question. For both of them, they got the same warm beer they always got. “It feels like it’s been _forever _since I’ve seen either of you!”

“I worked yesterday,” Blake protested while Yang snorted.

“Well, _I_ didn’t!” Nora replied, sliding the mugs to them. She leaned forward, onto her elbows. “I thought I’d see you after that horrid execution, Yang, ‘cause I worked that night, but you never came in.”

“We just stayed in,” Yang said with a shrug. It _was_ usually her habit, to surround herself with people and drink after an execution. It had always been a good way to distract herself. Now that she had Blake, however, she’d found she hadn’t needed the comfort a saloon offered.

“I didn’t see you there,” Blake remarked, eyebrow raised. “At the hanging.”

“Ugh, I avoid them when I can. Those things are horrible. I don’t know how you do it, Yang.” Nora wrinkled her nose. “I heard in Atlas, they actually sell peanuts to the crowd before a big hanging.”

“That’s revolting,” Yang remarked, shaking her head. She felt a comforting hand on the small of her back. She looked down at Blake and gave her a weak smile. “If anyone tries doin’ that here, I’m puttin’ my foot down.”

“People have such poor taste,” Blake agreed.

“Yeah.” Nora scowled, then pushed herself back up as someone called her name. “Shit. I’ll prob’ly see you around tonight. Behave yourself!”

The last statement was directed at Yang, who gave an innocent shrug. “Don’t I always?” she asked, but Nora had already bustled down the bar.

“She knows you well,” Blake said with a small smirk. 

“If she knew you better, she would’ve said that to _you_,” Yang shot back, winking. She lowered her voice, taking on a more serious tone. “None of these folks go to hangings. Jaune, Nora, Pyrrha, Ren… This ain’t the kind of crowd that finds enjoyment in executions.”

“I can see that,” Blake replied, looking back down where Nora was filling up more mugs. “They didn’t seem like the type, but it’s nice to get the confirmation. They’ve always been… nicer, I guess. To… us.”

Yang nodded. Blake didn’t need to use the word to indicate that she was talking about Faunus. “A lot of the crowd that comes here is like that. It’s mostly the backwards folk, and the people who have more money than sense, who like to watch people die.” She shook her head, blonde locks bouncing as she took another sip.

“It gives me a little hope, at least,” Blake said mildly. “That not all humans are… bad.”

It was one of the reasons Blake had left the White Fang, after all. She had hope in some of the people of Mantle. It was heartening, that she still felt that way. She wondered how the workers of Crocea Mors would react, knowing they had been working with a Faunus the whole time. She thought of Nora. She couldn’t see Nora suddenly hating Blake for her heritage. 

Maybe it was worth it, to have a little hope.

Yang looked back over to the dance floor, which was still empty. It didn’t stop Penny’s enthusiasm, and her music picked up in volume. She was one of the best piano players in Mantle, and one of the friendliest people in general. She always greeted Yang with a wave and a smile, though never when she was on the piano bench. Her fingers danced along the keys, so methodical and precise that it was almost mechanical. Her head bobbed lightly in time, her red ponytail bouncing.

When Blake set her mug down, Yang reached an arm out to tug her closer. With a wicked smile, Blake slid off her stool, allowing herself to be pulled between Yang’s legs.

“This is not behaving,” she tutted as Yang wrapped her arms around her waist.

“Is that gonna be a problem?”

Blake’s eyes danced. “No, ma’am.”

Yang had to suppose it wasn’t so bad when Blake called her _ma’am_. On certain occasions, anyway. Blake leaned in, lips tasting of cheap beer. Yang kissed her hungrily, pulling her closer until their bodies were flush. Yang resisted the urge to curl a leg around Blake’s back. It would be a shame to get kicked out of the saloon before they’d had a chance to dance.

Their lips were still locked when Penny missed a note on the piano, prompting both of them to break the kiss off and look over. The pianist had turned on her bench, staring at the entrance. Others were staring, too, gaping in the direction of the swinging doors.

Weiss Schnee stood just inside of them, looking through the crowd with her familiar coolness. Yang was probably the only person there who knew her well enough to detect the slight uncertainty in that gaze as she looked around, searching for the welcoming atmosphere that had abruptly evaporated at her entrance.

“Is someone in trouble?” some smartass called out. A few people laughed, while others muttered amongst themselves. Weiss’s cheeks tinged pink.

“Weiss!” Yang called, sparing her the embarrassment. She waved her over. Blake turned, tensing as she backed into Yang, but Yang slid her arm around her, settling on her lower back reassuringly. “You came!”

Weiss ignored the blatant stares of the crowd, pushing through them towards Yang. “Did you know she was coming?” Blake hissed.

“I invited her, but I didn’t know if she’d actually come.” Yang was surprised that Weiss had taken her up on her offer, but didn’t let it show. She raised her free hand in a jaunty wave. “Nice to see you made it!”

“I’m glad _you _think so.” Weiss shot a look back over her shoulder. Though most people were starting to go back to their own business and Penny had started up at the piano again, there were still plenty of eyes on them. “You seem to be the only one.”

“Hardly,” Yang scoffed, waving a hand. “They just don’t expect to see a person like you in a place like this.”

“A person like me,” Weiss repeated, expression unchanging. She finally turned to Blake, giving her a nod. “Good to see you again, Miss Belladonna.”

“Miss Schnee.” Blake returned the nod. _I know you know my secret_, she almost seemed to say. Yang saw Weiss’s lips tighten.

The stare between Weiss and Blake was a stare that Yang had thought was only reserved for showdowns. She cleared her throat. “Uh, so, have you been here before, Weiss?”

“No.”

Yang stroked her thumb on Blake’s back, still feeling tension in her body. This was the first time Blake had seen Weiss in person since she’d learned Blake was a Faunus. She couldn’t blame her for being nervous, but having both of the women on edge wouldn’t do them any favors.

“Could we get another beer down here?” Yang called. She saw Nora look up, eyes immediately narrowing as they landed on Weiss.

“I don’t drink b--” Weiss began, but Yang held up a finger to silence her before she could herself into an even deeper hole. Ordering anything fancier would have made her look like a snob, which wouldn’t have helped her cause.

“I’ll take care of it,” Pyrrha said laughingly, giving Nora a light pat on the shoulder. She grabbed an empty mug, spinning it around on her finger as she strode toward the keg. “You and Blake all set, Yang?”

“We’ve still got plenty.” Yang raised her mug in salute. “Thanks, Pyrrha.”

“Any time.” Pyrrha grinned as she slid the mug down to Weiss, who caught it more deftly than Yang had expected from someone unused to saloons. “It’s nice to see you, Miss Schnee.”

“Oh… Thank you,” Weiss replied, looking taken aback as she finally took a seat. Yang let out a small sigh of relief, grateful that Pyrrha had taken over. Nora was bound to have made some snippy comment to anyone of Weiss’s class, but the genuine kindness that Pyrrha offered was what Weiss needed. Pyrrha wouldn’t let a last name like _Schnee _get in the way of her natural politeness.

It was probably this natural politeness that disarmed Weiss enough to take a sip of her beer. Automatically, she made a face. “This is… bad,” she announced delicately, to Yang’s horror.

But Pyrrha only laughed. “It certainly isn’t what you’d get at _Tiger Lily_ or _Aura_, but people don’t come here for quality liquors.” She gave Weiss a small wink. “They come here for the company.”

“Oh…” Weiss looked startled, like the idea hadn’t even crossed her mind. Blake watched the interaction warily, taking a quiet sip from her own mug and leaning more of her weight against Yang.

“And you can’t ask for better company!” Yang told them all, grinning. She paused, drumming her fingers on Blake’s waist, then added, “After all, I’m here, right?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Blake sighed, but her eyes twinkled with merriment. As Yang had hoped, she relaxed just a little.

“You know it’s true.”

Weiss rolled her eyes, looking from Yang, to Blake, then up at Pyrrha helplessly, as if expecting sympathy. “Maybe coming out here was a bad idea,” she remarked dubiously.

“Personally, I’m glad to see you’ve come out for a night,” Pyrrha replied firmly, her smile bright and infectious enough to make one corner of Weiss’s mouth twitch. “You always seemed so lonely, wanderin’ about town by yourself.”

“I--” Weiss began, but for once, was at a loss for words. She looked over to Yang, eyes wide. She was probably expecting a rude, bawdy crowd, Yang thought, but Pyrrha had a way of catching people off-guard with her seemingly bottomless well of compassion. Yang smiled encouragingly. There was no better ambassador of the working class than Pyrrha Nikos.

Before Weiss could manage a response, the swinging doors of the saloon were kicked open. All four of them turned to look up, and Yang rolled her eyes as Neptune strode in, shooting finger guns at someone in the crowd.

“Now the party can start!” Neptune announced, grinning. Someone groaned.

Weiss’s eyes narrowed in his direction, wearing the same look she wore when staring down her father’s budgets and expenditures. It was disconcerting, to see her give a man the same look. 

“Neptune always enjoys a dance,” Pyrrha said casually, giving Weiss a sidelong glance. “He never turns down a pretty girl.”

Weiss’s brow furrowed, then looked up at Pyrrha questioningly. Even with Weiss seated on a tall barstool, Pyrrha towered over her. She pursed her lips, though Yang could see the faintest blush on her pale cheeks. “I never said anything about dancing.”

“It’s a Friday night. You gotta dance,” Yang insisted. She grinned, and gave Blake’s waist a squeeze. “Though all my dances are spoken for.”

“Like I’d dance with _you_.”

“You need to be careful with Yang,” Blake told them seriously, unable to resist a jab at her girlfriend’s expense. “You can’t just say stuff like that. Her ego is very fragile.”

“My _ego_\--” Yang began to protest, but she caught Weiss’s appreciative smirk. Maybe there was hope yet for her and Blake.

As people began to drink and trickle onto the dance floor, the people at the saloon seemed to forget a Schnee was in attendance. For the most part, people seemed happy to ignore Weiss, only shooting her the occasional curious (or suspicious) glance. Blake shook her head, bemused. She drained her mug and slammed it on the bartop.

“Come with me,” she told Yang, hopping off her lap and giving her hand a tug. Yang raised an eyebrow, but set her mostly-empty mug down, as well.

“Dance time?” she asked cheerfully. Blake shook her head, her smile slow.

“Not yet. I wanted to show you something first.”

Yang turned back to Weiss, who rolled her eyes. "As long as you make it quick," she sighed. "If you ditch me here, I swear to the gods that I will murder both of you."

Yang laughed out loud. "Like you could take me," she said with a wink, "but we'll be right back."

Blake didn't bother to look back at Weiss. Still holding onto Yang’s hand, she led her to the narrow hallway. Yang knew the hall led outside, to where the outhouse was, but Blake didn’t take her that far. Instead, she pushed open a swinging door and walked Yang inside.

Wooden kegs and barrels filled the room, neat and organized, with a narrow path for workers to roll out fresh ones for the bar. Some were stacked, blocking out the light from the hallway. Blake, still holding her hand, pulled her down one of the little paths toward the back of the room, where there was a small alcove of space. Back here, the sounds of the saloon were muted.

“You wanted to show me the kegs?” Yang asked, amused, looking around. Hidden from the light of the door, it was almost completely dark, with just a few cracks of lights poking in from around the barrels. Yang wondered if this was where Jaune kept his moonshine, too. “Are you sneakin’ me some free drinks?”

Even in the dim light, she could see Blake roll her eyes. “I could’ve done that at the bar. I just… wanted to get you away from the crowd for a moment,” she said, letting a hand fall to Yang’s waist. A smile teased on her lips, mischievous. “I was thinking you could show me how to dance.”

“Oh?” Yang raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know how?”

“I was thinking we could… practice a little. Warm me up, so to speak.” She slid a hand down to Yang’s waist, fingers tightening in the fabric of her shirt. “It’s been a while since I’ve danced with anyone.”

Eyebrow still up, Yang pulled off her hat, setting it atop one of the barrels. She was sure that Blake had seen her share of saloon dances in the time she’d worked at Crocea Mors. Only the line dances were the ones that required a little know-how, but she suspected that wasn't the kind of dance Blake had in mind. She set her own hands on Blake's waist.

"And dancin’ is all you wanted to do?" she asked darkly.

Blake hummed in agreement, beginning to rock her hips.

Well, dancing was certainly the last thing on Yang's mind right about then, especially when Blake's pelvis pressed into Yang's. Her swaying slowed, and all Yang could think of was her heat, and how she fit so perfectly against her body. It was like their bodies had been made with the other in mind, fitting together like a gun slotted into its holster.

She lowered her head, attempting softness in her kiss, but Blake ramped up the pace. She dug her teeth into Yang’s lower lip, making her jump with a loud hiss. She tightened her grip on Blake’s hips, tangling her fingers in her skirt.

“What kind of dancing d’you call this?” Yang asked, breaking off the kiss for the briefest moment. In that pause, Blake tugged Yang’s shirt out of her pants and slid a hand up her side. Yang shuddered involuntarily at the sensation, eyes flashing red when she saw the way Blake smirked. _Dancing_. What a joke. She pushed Blake against one of the barrels, mouth pressing against hers more fiercely, tongue meeting tongue.

It was enough to forget where they even were, that there was a room full of people next door, or that they’d essentially ditched Weiss. Yang kissed along Blake’s neck, nipping along the way, uncaring of the marks she’d leave. Blake began to grind against Yang, releasing short, breathy groans at each bite. She ran her hands wildly over Yang’s skin to touch every available inch.

“Fuck,” Yang grunted when Blake’s long fingers pushed her bra up. She kneaded Yang’s breast insistently, her thumb trailing in circles around her nipple. “So this is what you wanted,” she murmured into Blake’s neck, humming a sound that was more moan than laugh. “You just wanted to drag me back here so you could fuck me.”

“Yeah, so?” Blake gave her nipple a light pinch, then sucked in a rough inhale as Yang began to pull her skirt up and slowly crawl a hand up her thigh. “_Fuck_, Yang.”

“That’s pretty bold. Y’know, anyone could walk in here. At any time.” Yang slid a hand against her. She was so wet that she knew that the idea of being caught had to be more thrill than deterrent. Her eyes flicked back up to Blake’s face, her red cheeks, her hair tousled. She was beautiful. Keeping her eyes on Blake’s, she slipped two fingers inside of her. 

It was a lot like a dance in itself, Blake grinding against her, Yang pumping her fingers. She pressed her palm to Blake’s clit, making her dark head tilt back and her mouth open soundlessly. It was so primal, so raw, yet somehow so elegant. Yang kissed her cheek, lips soft as they moved in time with the motion of her hand.

She’d just worked a third finger into her when the doors swung open, creaking. Blake’s eyes widened, though Yang couldn’t tell if it was from worry or from the added finger. Her mouth opened, either in surprise or lust, but Yang didn’t give her a chance to make a sound. She covered Blake’s mouth with her free hand and a soft, “_Shhh_.”

Whoever had entered seemed to have no interest in the barrels on the far side of the wall. When Yang realized that no footsteps were coming closer, she began to thrust her hand again, more slowly. She felt Blake’s mouth stretch open against her palm, felt the vibrations of suppressed moans. Yang leaned closer to her, mouth against her ear, and hushed her again, her breath hot.

It felt like an eternity, her hand working slowly, Blake’s fingers grabbing and pulling at her blonde hair, before she heard the doors swing closed. Yang breathed a sigh of relief and pulled her hand back from Blake’s mouth. The close call was making her drip down Yang’s fingers, and Yang kissed the skin under her ear. She was impressed at how well Blake had held herself together. Yang smiled dangerously, lazily.

“Good girl,” she murmured. It was all Blake needed. With a loud, guttural moan, she came, clenching around Yang’s hand, whole body convulsing.

It was with a large shit-eating grin that Yang led Blake back into the saloon proper, adjusting her belt buckle with all the subtlety of a Goliath. They'd helped smooth each other's hair back out, combing through it with their fingers to make it look slightly less guilty. Yang was grateful for her hat; it hid the worst of it, where Blake had knotted her fingers and dug her nails into Yang's scalp.

"Where have you been?" Weiss snapped, storming up to them. She narrowed her eyes, and Yang shifted her feet, trying hard to not think about her lingering wetness and the image of Blake's head between her legs.

"She was givin' me a behind-the-scenes tour of the place," Yang replied with a shrug. Beside her, Blake shook her hair out, trying (and failing) to cover up a hickey.

Weiss glared. She wasn't fooled.

“So, uh…” Yang plowed on, determined not to get stuck in Weiss’s trap. “Find anyone to dance with?”

“I don’t need a partner,” Weiss replied, rolling her eyes. “They tell me you don’t need one for line dances.”

“Have you never line danced?” Yang asked, surprised. Even Blake raised an eyebrow.

“You will never catch any of the gentry _line dancing_,” she scoffed.

“But you’re gonna try, right?” Blake asked, eyes flicking over to Yang. She was trying to fight back a smile. Apparently, her nervousness over Weiss had been forgotten during their illicit activities. “You can’t leave Crocea Mors on a dance night without trying a line dance.”

“Maybe. But I--” Weiss began, then bit her lip, conflicted. “I don’t know how.”

“We all start somewhere,” Yang said reassuringly.

“I’ve never line danced, either,” Blake added. “So you won’t be the only one looking foolish.”

“At least you’ve seen it before, just working here.” Weiss shook her head, her thick white braid bobbing. “I don’t even have that.”

“More drinks?” Pyrrha asked cheerfully, approaching them from the side, hoisting a tray in one hand. “I was wonderin’ where you’d gone off to, Yang. Weiss here got nervous when she saw you were gone.”

“I was not!”

“I told her I hadn’t seen y’all leave,” she went on, giving Weiss a patient smile as she handed her a fresh mug of beer. “I knew you wouldn’t’ve left before the dancing started.”

“I’m not dancing,” Weiss insisted. Blake and Yang exchanged a look as they took their own mugs. Weiss’s cheeks were pink again.

“She’ll try a line dance, though,” Yang said. Weiss scowled.

“I already told you I don’t know how.”

“Maybe I’ll jump in on my break, and you can watch what I do,” Pyrrha said, her smile never faltering. “I’m pretty good, and everyone says I’m easy to follow along.”

“It’s ‘cause she’s tall,” Yang stage-whispered, giving Pyrrha a conspiratorial wink. “It’s hard to miss those legs.”

Pyrrha laughed merrily, green eyes twinkling. “Whatever you say, Yang.”

Yang was eager to join the dance floor. When Penny picked up the tempo for a new song, Yang shoved her mug at Weiss, who was so surprised that she took it. “Shall we dance, m’lady?” Yang asked, proffering her arm to Blake.

“I’d love to,” Blake replied serenely, taking it. 

One hand on Blake’s waist, she led her through the steps. Blake had likely danced in the city, but dances in the west were a different animal. In boots, there was little finesse to Yang’s movements, but she was quicker on her feet than many of the other dancers on the floor. They bounced along with the music, Yang occasionally lifting Blake up to twirl her around. Blake laughed, following along, letting Yang move her around the other pairs of dancers. Yet even the crowd seemed to fade away. The floor belonged to them.

Her long black hair loose, Blake rolled her head around during one small spin. It whipped around her face, and Yang took a chance. She hoisted Blake up, her smile wide. With a tinkling laugh, Blake let her, picking up the cue. Her skirt was loose enough that she could wrap her legs around Yang’s waist, trusting Yang to hold on as they spun.

Around them, a few people cheered them on.

Blake was still laughing as Yang slowed their twirl to a stop, though she didn’t release Blake. She smelled of sweat and jasmine and beer, her skin almost gold under the Dust-lights. Yang swallowed, only distantly noticing that Blake had taken off her hat and set it on her own head, over the bow. Her smirk was so secretive, so wicked. It was like she knew and shared every thought that ran through Yang’s head, like they were just as much her own. She glowed with that secret knowledge, and it made Yang breathless.

She was so beautiful.

She loved Blake, she realized. Maybe she always had, like some sort of forgotten reflex that she was only now remembering. It was achingly familiar, and intense in its rightness. It was a return to home, after being without it for a lifetime. Loving Blake was as right as breathing, and she had been an idiot for not recognizing it for what it was. 

She’d loved Blake all along.

Blake leaned in, kissing her, the dance all but forgotten even as the music bounced off the walls around them.

It was a revelation that had no place on the dance floor. They were swept into another dance, and then another, before Blake dragged her away for another drink. They’d worked up a sweat, and Yang was slightly dazed as Blake shoved a mug into her hands.

“Y’okay?” Blake asked, amused. “You look a little… lost.”

“I’m good,” Yang said, making herself laugh. No, this was something for _later_, when they weren’t surrounded by noise and music and laughter. “You wear me out.”

“I see!” Dancing had made Blake flushed, her cheeks rosy with exertion and giddiness. She giggled. “Well, you better have a _little _bit of energy left.”

“For you? Always.” Yang took a sip, laughed again, and leaned in to kiss Blake again.

Yang probably would have kept kissing her all night, but a flash of remembrance made her pull away. Weiss. They’d completely forgotten about Weiss, for the second time that night. Anxiously, Yang looked around, then immediately relaxed.

Weiss was back at the bar, leaning against it, apparently deep in conversation with Pyrrha. So much for dancing. Yang raised an eyebrow, then nodded in their direction when Blake looked at her questioningly.

“Should we… say something?” Blake asked quietly, though she couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice.

“Don’t you dare.” Yang took another sip of her drink. “If she’s making friends, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna get in the way of that.”

Yang needn’t have worried. During the first line dance, Pyrrha came out from behind the counter, shouting something incomprehensible to Nora. Yang watched, interested, as Pyrrha touched Weiss’s shoulder and jutted her head toward the dance floor.

“Let’s join ‘em,” Yang said, draining her mug. Next to Penny, a fiddler named Ciel lifted her instrument to her chin. “Time to teach you how to line dance!”

To Yang’s surprise, Blake picked up line dancing easily. It had probably helped that she’d watched the line dances before, which was a relief to Yang. She wouldn’t have known what to do if Blake was as useless as Weiss on the dance floor.

Weiss kept glancing down at Pyrrha’s feet, tipping slightly, though Yang couldn’t tell if her tipping was a result of the alcohol or from trying to see what the taller woman’s feet were doing. She winced as everyone turned and Weiss missed a step, nearly sprawling into Pyrrha’s back.

“I’m so sorry,” Weiss stammered afterward to Pyrrha, gratefully accepting another beer. Yang wondered, with mild concern, how many she’d had. She wasn’t even complaining about the taste anymore. “I’m so sorry.”

“Weiss, shut up,” Yang told her. “Pyrrha _said _it was fine.”

“I used to do ballet!” Weiss insisted. “And ballroom dancing. But this…”

“It’s okay,” Pyrrha said laughingly. “It’s a little different. No harm done.”

“She’ll be better next time!” Yang promised, sliding an arm around Blake’s shoulders. “I’ll make her practice.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Weiss snapped.

“I’ll look forward to it,” Pyrrha said. She offered up a last smile, then looked back over to the bar. “I should get back to work. I’ll see you next time, Miss Schnee.”

“Next time,” Weiss repeated faintly. Yang had to nearly drag her away. 

The dancing was still going strong when Yang and Blake called it a night. Weiss was beginning to giggle, a sound that was almost spooky to hear from someone who was usually so reserved. After they paid, Yang took Weiss by the arm, steering her toward the door. They passed Neptune, though Weiss didn’t even give him a second glance.

“This was nice,” Weiss remarked as Blake and Yang led her back down the street. “I mean, Father will probably throw a fit once he hears I went to a _saloon_, but it was a good time. Even though I nearly killed Miss-- Pyrrha.”

“You didn’t kill her,” Yang laughed. Blake snaked her arm through Yang’s. “She’s tough. It’d take a lot more than a bad line dance to kill that woman.”

“I think I kicked her heels a few times,” Weiss remarked, making a face. “She’ll probably have bruises tomorrow. I used to be a good dancer, y’know. Before…”

She frowned, like she was remembering something. She came to an abrupt halt, hesitated, then turned to Blake thoughtfully. Raising an eyebrow, Blake returned the stare with narrowed eyes. Her suspicion was back, as strong as ever.

“What is it?” Yang asked, suddenly nervous. If she was drunk, maybe her judgement was impaired enough to openly discuss Blake’s secret. If someone overheard…

Instead, what Weiss said next was nothing like that.

“I can’t see out of my left eye,” she told Blake, her words as serious as if she were sober. Blake frowned, but didn’t interrupt. “I mean, I can, a little. It’s very… fuzzy. It gives me… headaches. Since my eyes can’t see the same way. And It’s hard for me to… judge space, sometimes. Which might be why I danced so badly.”

“Weiss--” Yang began, but Weiss held up a hand, cutting her off.

“Look. I... know what it’s like. To have to do things you don’t want to do, for something you know isn’t right.” She paused, expression hardening. “And I know that sometimes, when you try to do the right thing… you pay a price.”

A chill ran down Yang’s spine. _Some lessons come at a hefty price, as my daughter found out, _Schnee had told her once.

“Which is why I think what you did was brave, Blake,” Weiss said softly. Blake’s eyes widened. “Leaving like you did, even when… you knew it could go wrong. When you knew that you might get…” Weiss struggled for a moment, to find a word. She shook her head and sighed sadly. “You’re… not a coward. Not like me.”

“You’re not a coward,” Yang told her firmly. Weiss finally wrenched her eyes away from Blake to glare at Yang.

“I know what I am,” she replied, cross. She turned back to Blake. “That’s why I don’t fight Father. Why I just... go along with what he does. Because if I don’t...” Her voice trailed off, and for the briefest moment, Weiss looked lost. She steeled herself. “But I’m not going to tell him about you, Blake. If you were worried about that… don’t. I know I can’t do much for you. But this is something I can control. I can keep your secret. That much, I can do.”

“Weiss,” Blake said, stepping closer. She reached a hang out, to grip Weiss’s forearm. She tried to smile. “Thank you.”

The curling of Weiss’s mouth wasn’t a smile. But it was close.

They walked Weiss to the front steps of her family’s manor, and she slipped inside quietly. The lights were out, and none of them were eager to wake Schnee up. They kept their silence even when they were far out of the way of the manor, both of them reflecting on Weiss’s words. The buzz of their drinks was wearing off, leaving them to their somber thoughts.

“Weiss is right, y’know,” Yang said as they rounded the corner onto their street. Blake looked up, surprised. “You were so brave, baby. To leave them.”

“It wasn’t bravery.” Blake shook her head, scowling. “If I’d been brave, I would’ve left long ago.”

“You _were _brave.” At the front of their house, Yang stopped. She turned to face Blake. “It took a lot of guts, to threaten that guy. To leave.”

“And every day, I wonder how it’ll come back to bite me.” Blake looked over her shoulder, as if by speaking the words, she was willing retaliation into existence. She lowered her voice. “Adam doesn’t just let things go. I just… I feel selfish. That I chose this. What if I… I don’t know. What if I doomed the town because of what I did?”

“Blake Belladonna,” Yang murmured, letting a hint of sternness creep in. “You are _not _selfish. You had every right to leave someone who treated you that way. You have every right to live the way you wanna live.”

“As much as a Faunus can.” But at least Blake was smiling a little. Yang chuckled.

“With me, you can live _any _way you want to,” she promised. 

She cupped Blake’s cheek in her palm, the skin so soft and smooth compared to her own calluses, the flesh rounding as Blake’s smile widened. This was a face she could stare into forever. Not for the first time that night, a sweet ache burned in Yang’s heart, radiating through her with a warmth she had no desire to let go of. It was better than water, better than air. Neither was as important as all-encompassing heat, the adoration, that flooded through her.

“I think… I love you,” Yang told her, stomach fluttering at the admission. She was never nervous, but then again, she’d never known love to be such a natural, beautiful thing. It was easier to understand, how someone could lose their head when they were charged with _this_. All the tragic love stories suddenly seemed less dramatic; love was a rich vein in her soul, and the world seemed to bloom.

“You think?” Blake repeated, her smile softening as she stepped closer into Yang’s space. “Yang, I…” she began, then faltered. Yang brought her other hand to Blake’s face, feeling the bashful heat that rose in both cheeks. She took a deep breath before continuing. “Since… Since I’ve met you, I…”

Blake’s voice hitched, though she did not look away. Yang brushed her cheek with her thumb, a comforting gesture that Blake seemed to find strength in.

“These… these weeks in Mantle. It’s been… some of the best of my life. And it isn’t just… being accepted as a human, either. And it isn’t just being away from… him. It’s… When I came here… there were so many things I expected it to be. And… yeah, sure, some of them, I was right about.”

“Schnee,” Yang muttered, lips twitching. Blake chuckled.

“That was pretty much a given,” she conceded. “But so many things… _weren’t _what I expected. Like you. Gods, I never would have thought, in a million years…” She was trembling a little, and Yang continued to stroke her cheek. “I thought I knew what my life was about,” she added, voice just above a whisper. “I thought everything made sense. But looking back… there was always something missing. And I didn’t even know it. Not until I came here.”

Somewhere, crickets were chirping, the wind was rustling the grass. Hearts were beating.

“Yang, it’s like… you were always supposed to be in my life. That without you, everything’s been… empty. And now that you are… Now that I have you… Everything’s _right_.” There was definitely a sheen in her eyes, a glassiness she fought back with a jagged breath. “I don’t just think it. I _know_. That I love you, too.”

Hands still holding Blake’s face, Yang leaned in, kissing her. It was gentle, so unlike the kisses they’d shared back in the saloon. This was a kiss that was about more than bodies. This was a kiss of souls.

“I do, too,” Yang added hastily, interrupting their kiss for something that suddenly seemed important. “I don’t just think it, either. I _know _I do.”

“Oh, baby,” Blake said with a small laugh, ringing through the night like the clearest bell. “I know.”

\--

“I love you,” Yang said as they lay in bed, nights later. Though she was still so unused to saying it, she felt like she couldn’t go long without doing just that. As if worried that Blake might, for some inexplicable reason, forget that she did. She traced a finger along Blake’s spine, watching goosebumps erupt.

Somehow, she’d never gotten around to using that phrase before with any of her previous lovers. It had never seemed right. Now, she knew why. It was a phrase meant for only one person.

“Mmm,” Blake hummed, rolling onto her side, hair falling to the pillow. “I love you, too.”

It was such a gentle night, so calming after the day Yang had dealt with. The night before, Yang had made an arrest, of a wealthy Dust broker named Clyde Rosette. He’d stormed out of a saloon, drunk, and had come to blows with one of the newer businessmen in town. Something about poaching his customers, or so Rosette had claimed. Yang hadn’t been quite sure; his slurring had bordered incomprehensible. For good measure, she’d arrested both men.

When she went in to work that morning, she’d found Schnee had sprung Rosette, leaving the other merchant behind in the kennels. It left a sour taste in her mouth, that Schnee could show such blatant disregard of her judgement for sheer favoritism.

Yang leaned over, her kiss light over Blake’s lips. Just being able to kiss Blake did wonders for her stress.

“You could always re-arrest him,” Blake pointed out when Yang rolled back onto her side. “Say that it was a miscarriage of justice, or something.”

“And that’ll turn into a tug-o’-war with Schnee. He’ll just let him back out.” Yang sighed, wiggling closer. “Apparently, Rosette works _solely _with Schnee. I think he’s worried Rosette’ll get angry and start workin’ for other Dustmen. I guess this guy’s got contacts all over Remnant.”

“He’ll piss off all the other dealers if he picks favorites like this,” Blake pointed out, her dark brows furrowing.

“Like he gives a shit. He only cares about the big-name ones like Rosette. Poor Graham, he’s still stuck in the kennels. He’s not important enough to Schnee, I guess.”

“So maybe you can get the smaller businessmen on your side.” Suddenly excited, Blake pushed herself up onto her elbows. “If the mayor is showing actual favoritism like this, you can use it to your advantage.”

“They’ll still be the ones with the money,” Yang replied glumly. 

“With enough people, money won’t matter,” Blake said firmly. She reached a hand up, letting her fingers trail down Yang’s cheek.. “It all comes down to majority, in the end. If you’ve got a majority behind you, it doesn’t matter how much money Schnee throws around, because you can always overpower him with _people_. Even if it comes down to physically tying him to a chair--”

“If we’re tying anyone up--” Yang began, lips curling delightedly. Though her ears shot straight up, Blake stopped her with a quick flick to the forehead. “Ouch!”

“Focus, babe,” Blake laughed, though she did offer Yang the slightest wink. “I’m just trying to say, you can appeal to the town this way. Remind them that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

“Right.” Yang rubbed her forehead absently against the sting. “And you think people will go for it?”

A slow smile spread across Blake’s face. “Absolutely.”

The next day, when Yang visited the kennels, she stopped by Graham’s cell, and listened patiently as he ranted about his treatment, about Schnee, about the injustice.

“I get it,” Yang told him, crouching down. She nodded in sympathy, then lowered her voice. “It ain’t right.”

They had to start slow, Yang knew. They had to be discreet.

This was a start.

\--

To keep from arousing suspicion, she and Blake had to be extremely careful in who they spoke to about what. A choice remark in the ear of a disgruntled businessman, a quiet conversation with Jaune in the back room of the saloon. If they were caught, they might very well be arrested, if not hung. Every word had to be chosen carefully.

Still, even the people Yang already considered allies were fearful.

“If he even knows I’m talking about this, it could cost me the saloon,” Jaune told Yang apologetically. He leaned against a barrel, shaking blond hair out of his eyes. This was a conversation Blake was staying out of; if things went south, they didn’t want to risk her job, or her identity. “He’d force me out. You know he’s capable of that, Yang.”

“You know he’s brandin’ the Faunus, again,” she replied in a low voice. “You’re a good man, Jaune. You know that’s cruel. It’s torture. And if he’s doin’ it to the Faunus, who knows what he’ll do next?”

“At least he’s never branded a human,” Jaune hissed. “We can’t antagonize him, or he’ll make things worse for everyone. We should just… count our blessings as we can. I do well here, and so do you. Do you _really _wanna rock that boat?”

“And what’re you gonna do if one of his _posse _strolls in here and causes a scene?” she demanded. “I can arrest ‘em, but it won’t do shit. Maybe _you’d _even end up in the kennels, and there won’t be a damn thing I could do about it. You _know _he only cares about his own, and he’d step on any of y’all at the bottom if it meant an advantage for himself.”

Jaune grimaced, his uncertainty plain. “It’s…” he began, then sighed. “It’s better to just keep the peace, Yang. We haven’t had to deal with any of that yet, and if we keep our heads down, we never will. You oughta keep doin’ the same, Yang.”

When he departed, Yang gritted her teeth and slammed a fist into the wall.

“You can’t keep losing your temper like this,” Blake told her quietly that evening, examining Yang’s bruised knuckles.

“Why, because people will lose respect for me?” she asked, almost a snarl. She made to pull her hand back, but Blake shook her head.

“Because you’ll break your hand, Yang.” She looked back up at Yang, expression soft. “And you can’t be a gunslinger with only one hand.”

“I just don’t know what else to do,” Yang said, dropping her hand when Blake rose to get some ice. “I woulda bet my guns that Jaune woulda been on our side.”

“He’s scared. You know he’s scared. Not everyone has the safety of your reputation. He could lose his whole livelihood.”

“He could lose it anyway, if Schnee keeps doin’ what he’s doin’.”

Blake made a small bundle of ice, wrapped in one of Yang’s cleaner bandanas. Her shoulders sagged and her ears drooped before she turned back around to face Yang. “I know. But people are gonna go with the safer option, even if it isn’t perfect.”

“And nothing’s gonna change,” Yang replied bitterly.

She let Blake take her hand again, pressing the ice against her knuckles. Yang glowered at it. She was just as useless as she’d ever been.

“Maybe we just need to take smaller steps to start,” Blake said thoughtfully. “Get some of the Faunus on your side. There’s a lot of them in town, y’know. If you can organize them, or even lessen the stigma a little… it’d be a start.”

“And how would I do that?”

“Meet them.” With a free hand, Blake took Yang by the chin, forcing eye contact. There was a fire in those amber eyes. “Have them work for you. Not as underpaid labor, but as equals.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Use the kids as messengers,” Blake told her with a small shrug. “Hire one as a stablehand.”

“I’ve already got a stablehand. I ain’t gonna fire Sage when he’s done nothing wrong.”

“Then use two!”

“I dunno.” Yang’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “I’m not sure if Sage would wanna work with a Faunus...”

“Really, Yang?” Blake asked, one eyebrow raising so high that nearly hit her hairline. “If that’s what’ll stop you--”

“What?” Yang’s eyes widened as she realized what she’d said. “Oh, shit, that’s not what I meant. I-- I--” She cursed again, her uninjured fist clenching with fury at herself.

“Easy, babe,” Blake murmured, setting a hand on Yang’s fist. “I know you meant nothing by it.”

“But I should know better. God, Blake, I only--”

“It’s okay.” Carefully, Blake opened Yang’s fist, twining their fingers together. “It’s… scary, to try to change how people think. Believe me, I know.”

“I’m not afraid,” Yang said fervently, trying to convince herself as much as Blake. “I’m not gonna let it stop me. If Sage doesn’t like it, then he’s not someone I want workin’ for me, anyway.”

“If he sticks around, maybe he’ll start to change his mind, too,” Blake added, nodding slowly. “He doesn’t seem like a bad guy. And if all goes well… he’ll be on our side, too.”

“Smaller steps,” Yang reflected, closing her eyes. She finally clasped her hand with Blake’s. “I guess we can give it a shot.”

It caused a small scandal when Yang took on a young Faunus man to help out in her stable. Sun Wukong seemed to know a fair bit about horses, and he seemed like an easy person to get along with. He was surprisingly friendly to his new human boss, without the cowed attitude most of the Faunus seemed to have. Even though he worked in the mines nearly every day, he still had plenty of energy left for stablework in the mornings. 

“I don’t need help,” Sage protested, green eyebrows scowling. “You’ve got _one _horse, for godsake.”

“Well, Ruby’s coming in just a couple weeks,” Yang replied cheerfully. “She’s got two, and she’s bringin' a horse for Blake. Plus, this’ll let you have a morning off now and then!”

“Fine. But why a Faunus?” he grumbled.

“Why not?” Yang countered.

Sage was a polite man, and despite Sun’s long monkey tail, he was never openly rude. By the end of the week, they were actually having easy conversations.

Yang took it as a win. 

Oddly, it was the use of Faunus messenger children over human ones that caused a bigger stink. Over the course of a few days, several parents stormed into her office in the town hall, demanding why a Faunus child had been used instead of their own.

“Yours wasn’t on hand,” Yang said, shrugging. “Hugo was.”

She’d taken a particular liking to the small dog-eared boy. Like many Faunus parents, his father was trying to hold off on signing him into an indenture. The extra lien, Blake had explained, was probably enough to keep Hugo out of the mines.

“Faunus kids are just as capable as human kids are,” Yang explained patiently to each parent. “And I was in a hurry.”

She was careful not to use the Faunus children more often than the human ones; showing favoritism would alienate the human townsfolk. Still, she was gratified to see the Faunus children mingling with human ones in the street, waiting for messages to send. Though they never played together, Yang hoped that someday, they might. At least among the children, there were few fights.

“Weiss’s started using Hugo, y’know,” Yang told Blake one night as she made dinner. “For messages.”

“If people see Weiss is using Faunus, maybe others will follow suit,” Blake replied, cautiously optimistic. “I’m surprised her father is letting her.”

“She told him that she’s payin’ them half of what the human kids would get,” Yang said, tapping the spoon on the edge of the pot before setting it down. “She’s still payin’ them full-price, though. But if Schnee thinks she’s savin’ money by using Faunus, he ain’t gonna fight it. As long as they don’t actually step foot in the house.”

Blake wrinkled her nose. She had been in his house several times by then. “Joke’s on him, I guess.”

“I guess.”

\--

It should have been a normal afternoon. Yang should have gone home after her shift, or gone out to visit Blake at work. She should have made smalltalk with the townsfolk at Crocea Mors, should have eaten dinner, should have gone to bed with Blake that night. She should have been regaling the saloon with stories of her days on the range, driving cattle with her sister. She should have been making more preparations for Ruby’s visit.

There were so many things Yang should have done that afternoon.

Instead, the town burned.

\--

Every day, Blake and Yang made sure that they always had at least one meal together. On the nights Blake worked, Yang would go home on her lunch break. As much as she loved to visit Blake at the saloon, going there every night was expensive. It was cheaper, and more relaxing, to share a meal at home, even if it was a brief lunch.

Besides, there was something pleasant about sharing a ritual with Blake. Yang had never considered herself overly domestic, but she enjoyed making lunches and dinners for two. She’d learned quickly that when it came down to making meals, Blake couldn’t be trusted to manage her cookstove. The first time she’d tried, the chicken had come out undercooked and oversalted.

“I’ll teach you how to get it right, one of these days!” Yang promised.

They had a whole future where that was possible, and the idea of that thrilled them both. Who knew what other little rituals that would come in that future? What other habits would they develop, together?

She was feeling so full, both with food and with her heart, that when the alarm bells started ringing, it took Yang a few seconds to register the sound for what it was.

When it did, she stiffened, hands automatically going to her holsters. How could there be Grimm? There had been no cave-ins, no reason for fear and chaos. She supposed a smaller Grimm might have just wandered into town, but the alarm bell was usually reserved for larger swarms. She began to run toward the town hall, to the sound of the bell.

When she heard the first gunshot, Yang ran faster. The loud peal of the bell began to slow, then died altogether. Bandits, she realized. This had to be a bandit attack. Grimm didn’t use guns.

“Everyone, get inside! Take cover!” Yang yelled as curious people began to trickle out of buildings. “Bandits!”

There were panicked murmurings, more than one gasp. Most people ran back indoors, but a few lingered, wanting to catch a glimpse of what was going on. As Yang ran past, she repeated her warning with a hiss, eyes burning red. They scrambled back inside.

By the time Yang reached the town hall, it was chaos. Already, her deputies were there, guns raised, aiming at the people riding horses through the streets. Their aim was never as good as Yang’s; they fired round after round, but never struck any of the riders.

The riders were whooping, howling like wolves, braying like livestock. All of them wore masks that covered their eyes, but they all openly displayed their animal ears, their antlers, their tails. Faunus.

White Fang.

With a battle cry, Yang began to fire. She took three down immediately, knocking them from their horses in a splatter of blood. Seeing her, the riders began to wheel their horses around to distance themselves from the gunslinger. They would have known about her reputation, and their three dead fellows could attest to its validity.

“Shoot to kill,” she ordered, glancing back over to the alarm bell. She had half a mind to find someone to keep ringing the alarm, but the dead body of the previous bellringer was sprawled beneath the bell, shot through the head. Word would travel fast, even without the bell, she reasoned. There was no one else around that she could spare to keep ringing it. Already, her deputies had started chasing after some of the riders, firing their guns. Henry struck one in the back, but the rider wasn’t blown off his horse. He slumped, the horse carrying him away down the street.

On Yang’s next inhale, she smelled smoke. Or, not just smoke, she realized, whirling her head around in a search for its source. Underlying the smoke was the sharp smell of Dust. Her eyes widened as a trickle of angry smoke began to leak out of an open window in the town hall.

“Run!” she screamed at nobody in particular, but her warning was drowned out by a thunderous _boom_. Yang was far enough away that the erupting inferno didn’t knock her over, but glass and wood flew outwards. An explosion of Fire Dust, set off from inside the building, she thought numbly. She could’ve been in the building when that happened. She nearly had been.

As the dust began to clear, Yang could make out more White Fang riders returning. They were shooting now, aiming for the people who couldn’t resist poking their heads of doors to see what had just happened. Ears ringing, Yang let out a bellow as some of the shots hit their targets, bodies dropping to the ground. She didn’t wait; she raised her guns again, firing quickly, popping off White Fang riders in quick succession. They were close enough now that she could take them out easily.

When her guns were empty, she crouched, ejecting the casings and pulling out fresh ammo. As she did, she kept her eyes on the scene around her, not about to be taken off-guard.

“Yang!” she heard Blake call. Yang pushed herself back up, waving as Blake, Nora, Pyrrha, and Ren came running. All of them had a weapon of some kind in their hands, though none were the guns that would prove most useful against riders on horseback.

“It’s the White Fang!” Yang fired a shot at another passing rider, but it was like they kept on coming; more came galloping down the street, hooting and howling and roaring. She saw the look of horror flash across Blake’s face, even at a distance, but there was no time for comfort. “Get back! Run!”

She couldn’t let Blake get hurt. She _wouldn’t _let Blake get hurt.

The horses kicked up dust, and Yang couldn’t tell what their motive was, or what they were trying to do. It was like all they wanted to do was cause chaos instead of looting. As far as she could tell, none of the masked riders had dismounted to enter any buildings. All they did was shoot at civilians and bomb the town hall.

The fire from the explosion continued to burn, clouding the streets with smoke. Yang coughed, and pulled her bandana over her mouth. The Dust residue in the smoke burned her eyes, and though they watered, she didn’t let it stop her, only pausing to reload her guns. Across the street, Blake and the others were trying to gang up on a rider, but to no effect. The horse reared, and all four of them fell back.

“Get back!” she yelled to them. “You ain’t gonna do much without guns!”

“I got it!” she heard one of her deputies yell. Luke came charging through, his own revolver raised.

Yang didn’t watch him fire. Her eyes had fallen on another rider. Unlike the others, this rider stood motionless on a tall, black horse, waiting just beyond the smoke ahead of her. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make him out. Two short horns protruded from his scalp. 

He must have noticed that he had her attention, for he urged his horse to a walk. The clopping of hooves were ominous in their patience. It was like the devil himself had come to call.

Even though he wore a mask, this one was different than the other riders. It was laced delicately with red, and though she couldn’t see his eyes, he knew he was staring down at her. One corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk.

He knew who she was, and she knew damn well who he had to be.

She raised her guns.

There was no time to think, no time to reflect. She fired her guns, _onetwothreefour_, intent on bringing down the man that haunted Blake’s waking and sleeping hours. This was the man who’d beaten her, who’d threatened her. Adam Taurus would die that day. She’d finish the job. She was the Solitas Dragon. The Golden Hornet. The Huntress. The Gunslinger.

Yang Xiao Long never missed.

But she did then.

It took her a moment to realize that none of her shots had hit home. It was _unthinkable_, that none of the bullets had hit him, but whatever had happened had been too fast for her to see. Her eyes and mouth widened, unable to hold back her shock, her horror.

Adam should have been blown off his horse. Instead, he just sat there, holding a sword in front of him with both hands. The horse lowered his head, seemingly uncaring of the bullets that Yang had sent in his direction. The bullets that had not hit their target.

“How--?” she couldn’t stop herself from saying. Her bandana fell from her mouth. For the first time, an honest chill of fear ran down her spine. She _never _missed.

“A little trick I’ve learned, to deal with gunslingers like you, Yang,” Adam replied, his low voice almost amicable. His smirk never faded. “A worthy investment. Wouldn’t you agree?”

It was only then that Yang realized the metal of his sword was red. She frowned. It wasn’t a normal sword. Had that sword had something to do with why she missed?

“What the fuck do you want?” she snarled.

Adam leaned back, almost relaxed. Testing him, Yang fired again without warning. Lazily, Adam’s sword came up. She could have _sworn _that her bullets curved the slightest bit toward the blade, hitting the sword and ricocheting off. She stared.

His smirk was so cruel, as sharp as that blasted sword. He jutted his chin. Yang didn’t need to look to know how was indicating Blake.

“I want to see what happens,” he said simply.

His words made no sense, but she knew there was danger in them. She wanted to look back, to scream at Blake to run, to tell her that everything would be okay. Dimly, she was aware that the shootings had stopped and that the galloping of horses had ceased. There were no more explosions to make her eardrums ring. But she didn’t dare take her eyes off the masked man.

Adam made a show of looking around, and only then did Yang see that more of the townsfolk had emerged, many with weapons in their hands. She chanced a look back at Blake, who stood among them, ghostly pale. Everyone’s eyes were on Yang and Adam, too shocked and confused to do anything else.

“I heard it was a sin,” Adam drawled loudly, staring down Yang once more. He wanted everyone to hear. “To fuck an animal.”

Yang’s blood ran cold, but Adam said nothing more. He kept his hands on his sword, ready for more bullets, but none came. Even if bullets had been useful against him, Yang had frozen.

“What’s that mean?” she heard someone ask in the crowd.

“Don’t,” Yang said lowly, eyes never leaving Adam.

“It means,” he went on, “that you’ve had one of mine living among you. Eating with you. Befriending you. Learning your ways.” He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect. “Fucking you.”

Nobody said a word. It was like time stood still. 

“Why don’t you show them what you’re hiding under that bow, Blake?” he asked.

Yang only had one round left in each of her guns, but she fired anyway. As he had before, Adam’s sword was up before she could even blink. Even with her guns empty, she charged him. She’d even throw her guns at him if she had to. She had to--

There was another explosion, and the crowd screamed. Down the street, the windows of the church blew outward, raining glass on everyone close to it, fire billowing outward. Yang raised her arm over her face, shielding her eyes from the debris. When she brought it back down, Adam was already galloping away.

There were gunshots around her, some of the few armed townspeople trying to shoot after him, but it was no use. He was too far, too fast, for their bullets to catch him.

He was gone.

Yang stared after him, too numb to react. It was only when she heard Blake cry out that she snapped herself out of her stupor.

Luke had a tight hold on Blake’s arm, his other hand clutching the ribbon he’d ripped from her hair. He dropped it to the ground and spat in her face.

“You lying _bitch_!” he yelled.

How quickly, someone went from being an ally to being nothing more than a Faunus slur.

“Stop!” Pyrrha yelled, pushing her way forward, but someone restrained her. “She was _helping _us!”

“She’s a spy!” someone announced shrilly. “A _spy_!”

Yang raced over, but Henry made it there first. He seized Blake’s other arm. “You’re under arrest!” he yelled, more for the people around them than for Blake. Her ears flattened against her scalp, and she looked up at Yang helplessly. Henry had already pulled out his baton.

“Don’t you _dare_!” Yang screamed, but a crowd had formed around Blake. She pushed her way through, but not before she heard the dull _thuds _of his baton striking flesh and her cries of pain. “Let her go!”

Without thinking, as she pushed past the last person in the crowd, she drew her still-empty guns, pointing each directly into the face of her deputies. Henry stopped, his baton still half-raised.

“If you hit her again, I’m blowin’ your brains out right here,” she snarled. “I _said_, let her go.”

“She’s a spy!” Henry snapped, jerking Blake’s arm even as she doubled over in pain. “She’s been spyin’ on us for the _White Fang_!”

There were murmurs and mutterings all around them. It was no secret, what Blake’s relationship to Yang was. If the crowd turned on her, too--

“_Enough_!” a loud voice boomed. Coming at a run down the street was Schnee, tailed by his daughter and an escort of security guards. “What’s happened here?!”

“The White Fang, sir!” Luke cut in, tightening his grip on Blake’s arm, still looking fearfully down the barrel of Yang’s gun. “This _bitch _has been spyin’ on us all along.”

“Did she kill the people on the train?!” someone in the crowd demanded.

“_Yang Xiao Long_!” Schnee bellowed. “Lower your weapons!”

Eyes still burning on her deputies, Yang shoved her empty guns into their holsters. At least Luke had lowered his baton. 

She saw Schnee’s eyes dart to the top of Blake’s head, saw his expression turn stony. Behind him, Weiss had gone white, though her face remained blank.

“Arrest her,” he ordered shortly.

Yang rounded on him slowly, eyes flashing. “Make me,” she growled.

Weiss’s eyes widened, and she saw fury begin to bloom in red splotches across Schnee’s pale face. He raised a finger, his other hand white-knuckling his cane.

“If you don’t place her under arrest this instant,” he hissed, “I’ll lock you up with her and hang you side by side.”

She looked at Weiss, whose lips tightened into a thin line. She gave an imperceptible nod. She turned back to Blake, _feeling _how her heartbeat thundered in her blood. Blake was bent at the waist, clutching her stomach. But she looked up at Yang, breathing heavily. There was a deadness behind her eyes as she gave a singular, curt nod.

“I--” Yang stammered. How was she supposed to arrest Blake? Her thoughts raced; if she could reload her guns and kill Schnee here, maybe they could get away. But they were still surrounded by people who could-- and would-- stop them.

“If you don’t arrest her now,” Schnee repeated, “I’ll have you _both _arrested.”

Some people in the crowd, the ones who knew Blake or worked with her, stared in horror. Nora covered her mouth with both hands, stricken, while Ren stared with his mouth hanging open. Pyrrha looked close to tears.

He would arrest Blake, regardless of who did it, Yang knew. There was a growing pit in her stomach, already engulfing her body in darkness. If it was her deputies, she knew they would beat her again, over and over. If they arrested Yang, too, then there would be nothing she could do about it.

Yang clenched her jaw shut as she reached behind her, pulling out her cuffs. Everything about this felt like a betrayal, a sour wrongness. Harshly, she shoved Henry out of the way, taking Blake by the arm with more gentleness.

If she could keep herself out of the kennels, she could think of something, a plan.

She had to.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured in Blake’s ear.

Blake didn’t fight as Yang moved her hands behind her back. Henry was still close by, holding on, though Blake made no move to escape.

“I love you,” Yang whispered, heart cracking as she clicked the cuffs shut around her wrists. Blake trembled. “I’m so sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a little long, so I hope that makes up for my break! Thanks again to Aziminil for the beta-ing!! And to Alex, for the additional feedback~


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: if you the idea of executions makes you queasy, you might want to skip this chapter.

“And you had no idea she was associated with the White Fang?”

“No. I didn’t.”

It was what Weiss had told her to say. While Luke and Henry dragged Blake away to the kennels, Weiss had taken Yang by the arm and whispered instructions into her ear. If Schnee found out that Yang had been withholding information about Blake, she’d be arrested, too. Lying would be the only way for Yang to stay out of the kennels. 

Lying would be the only way she’d be able to rescue Blake.

Schnee nodded slowly, drumming his fingers on the desk. Yang wished she could be anywhere but his office-- the fires were still burning in the town hall and in the church, but Schnee had excused himself and Yang from the scene. There were plenty of other people to take care of it, he’d insisted. He wanted an explanation out of Yang, and he wanted it right _then_.

“It’s just like a Faunus, to lie like that,” he muttered with disgust. “I can’t be too harsh on you, Yang,” he conceded after a moment. “You’re far from the first person to have ever gotten mixed up in a Faunus affair. I myself may have had a dalliance or two with them-- it’s more common than you might think.”

Yang’s lips thinned, fighting back her own revulsion. For all he seemed to be trying to relate to her, it was like he was talking about something dirty, something sinful. It was nothing at all like the love she felt for Blake.

_Blake_. Schnee had forbidden Yang to escort her to the kennels, still suspicious that she would set her free. At least her deputies had put their batons away. They had been too spooked by having guns pointed in their faces to hit Blake again, at least in front of Yang. Still, it made her sick, to imagine them resuming the beating when they’d gotten out of sight. She’d wanted to run after Blake right then, to ensure it wouldn’t happen. But she’d been stopped.

“It’s the nature of a Faunus,” Schnee went on, shaking his head. “All they know how to do is lie and cheat. And I know how it is, when you’re young, to believe that something like love can overcome that. But it doesn’t. You can’t overwrite nature. No matter how much we domesticate them, animals can never be truly tamed.”

Yang said nothing, glaring at a large crystal sphere Schnee had displayed on his desk. He wasn’t like Weiss; he loved decorations and ornaments. She vaguely wondered how much that crystal had cost, how many Faunus had to suffer for him to buy it.

“I think you should take a day off tomorrow, Yang,” Schnee said, determinedly cheery. “Take the rest of today, too. Get your thoughts straightened out in time for the execution on Friday.”

“What?” Yang’s head snapped back up, blood running thin. That was two days away.

“It’ll show the townsfolk you feel genuinely remorseful for ever getting caught up with someone like her,” he explained smoothly. “There’s going to be a lot of questioning about your involvement, Yang. Overseeing the execution will put you right back into everyone’s good graces.”

Yang’s whole body buzzed. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d suggested this. Faunus had been hung for less than Blake’s supposed crime.

“I…” Yang began, mouth suddenly dry. “What about… her trial?”

“Where the White Fang’s involved, no trial is necessary,” Schnee replied. “We’ll need to hang her quickly. Keeping her around will make the townsfolk nervous.”

Two days. Yang’s breathing began to quicken. “I… But she--”

“I won’t let her mess with your head,” Schnee told her, as if to reassure her. “I’ve told Luke and Henry to keep you out of the kennels while she’s there. I know how slimy those animals can be. We can’t risk having her corrupt you.”

It was like there was a black hole, sucking the breath from her lungs and leeching the heart out of her body. “I have to tell her--” Yang tried, but Schnee shook his head, mustache twitching in disdain.

“It’s for the best, Yang. We can’t risk having her try to sway you, not when the town is so vulnerable.”

Yang’s ears began to ring, almost as if another explosion had tried to deafen her. She rose, the air thick and heavy and trying to pull her down. He must have dismissed her, though the words couldn’t get through the fog of her brain. And then Klein was leading her out, probably saying something polite. She didn’t hear him. She could only close the door behind her automatically as she stepped outside, wishing the day’s heat would melt her into the ground.

“What happened?” Weiss asked urgently, running up with her skirts clutched in one hand. She must have been waiting for her, even in the hot sun. “He’s letting you go?”

“Two days,” Yang said numbly, staring off at the still-smoking buildings. “He wants me to hang her in two days. Without a trial.”

“Oh, Yang,” Weiss said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“He won’t even let me see her.” Ordinarily, Yang might have been embarrassed at the hitch in her voice, the way she choked out the words. “He doesn’t want her to… corrupt me, or something.”

She thought of Blake in her cell, alone. She would already be bruised from being whaled by that baton. She prayed that she hadn’t been beaten any further.

“I’ll go.”

Yang made herself blink, Weiss’s angular face coming into focus. “What?”

“You might not be able to get into the kennels, but Luke and Henry wouldn’t dare turn me away,” she explained, like she was explaining a solution to another bureaucratic mess. “I’ll even bring my bible, and I can tell them that I’m trying to show her religion before she dies, or something. They’ll eat it up.”

“You’d… do that?” Yang asked, not quite comprehending. “You… You’re still on our side?”

“Of course I am,” Weiss snapped, looking almost offended. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“After… what happened…” Yang’s voice trailed off, mind already falling back to Blake in the kennels. Weiss frowned.

“Did you think I wouldn’t believe in her anymore? In you?” she asked, a little more gently. Yang nodded, her head bobbing like it wasn’t even attached to her body. “Yang. If anything, I believe in you even _more _now. I mean… that man on the horse wouldn’t have just given up one of his spies so easily, right? That’s even more solid proof that she left, or, at the very least, did something that angered the White Fang. Right?”

“Then why can’t your dad see that?” Yang asked, closing her eyes, trying to keep tears at bay.

“Because my father only sees what he wants to see,” Weiss replied, her voice laced with venom. “And that’s why he does everything he does. Why he’s trying to build that wall, to let Faunus die in the mines. And it’s... why we can’t let him stay in power.”

Brows furrowed, Yang opened her eyes again, and found Weiss’s face to be deadly serious. “You… what?”

“Walk with me,” Weiss said, jutting her chin toward the street. “Let’s talk.”

Right. This was probably a dangerous subject to talk about so close to the manor. Yang nodded, a small twitch of her head to indicate that she understood. Without another word, they set off together. In her haze, Yang wasn’t even sure where Weiss was taking her, but she followed anyway.

“It’s not just about Blake,” Weiss told her quietly. “I’ve been thinking on this for a while now. I just… didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

Yang nodded again. Being the heiress to the SDC meant that this questioning would come with its own dangers, its own consequences. Of course Weiss wanted to make sure she got it right.

But Yang hesitated for a moment, looking out over the smoldering shells of the church and the town hall. 

“They’ve got the fires under control,” Weiss explained, almost impatiently. “They’re not completely out, but they’re handled. Let’s just keep walking.”

Yang wrenched her eyes away from the scene. Someone had rigged up a hose, and other townsfolk helped with buckets of water. For all the combustibility of Fire Dust, it was fairly easy to put out. A part of her wondered how many of the townsfolk would have even accepted her help at all; while Schnee had pardoned her, she had a feeling others might not. Around the town, someone had already set up the shield of Light Dust as a preventative against Grimm. Even though she hadn’t been there to supervise, Mantle was still organized in their damage control.

“Father has been putting a rush job on getting supplies for the wall,” Weiss explained, carefully avoiding the people at work. “He’s dipping into town funds for it. Taxes and such. Says that since it’s for the town’s benefit, then the town has to pay for it. Even though he hasn’t even held a forum on it. Even though nobody’s voted for it.”

It was hard to concentrate on what Weiss was saying. Down the street were the kennels. Blake was there. But Weiss didn’t seem to notice Yang’s lapse in concentration. 

“And that he’s unwilling to give Blake a trial is a _complete_ abuse of power. If it were a human who was charged with murder, even _they’d _be given a trial, or at least a hearing. This sets a dangerous precedent for the Faunus.”

Yang nodded distantly, unable to resist giving the kennels a last, wistful stare. Leaving it behind her almost made her want to cry, though she resisted. The last thing anyone needed to see was the town’s sheriff in tears over a supposed Faunus traitor.

Weiss glanced back to see what Yang was looking at, and her eyes softened. “I’ll go there right after I drop you off,” she said gently. “I’ll make sure they’re not laying a hand on her, and I’ll tell her what’s going on. Is there anything you want me to tell her?”

“A note,” Yang said, her own voice barely hitting her ears. “I’ll write her a note.”

Weiss nodded. Though they avoided passersby as best they could, the streets were still bustling with frantic people. There were sobs, heart-wrenching and painful, from the people who’d lost loved ones. The constant, steady buzz from the Light Dust shield should have been comforting, in the wake of all this fear and anguish, but Yang took none. She didn’t care if Grimm tried attacking the city. Her heart was too shattered to feel anything beyond its own heartbreak.

“They all saw me miss,” Yang found herself saying as they rounded a corner. The words didn’t even sound right, coming out of her own mouth. “Gods, Weiss, I _missed_.”

“What?” Weiss, taken aback by the abrupt change in conversation, looked up at her with a frown.

“I shot-- I shot him, Weiss. Or, I thought I did. But I missed.”

“You _missed_?!” The incredulity of Weiss’s exclamation hurt.

“I emptied my guns on him, but none of the bullets hit. I think…” Yang paused, trying to remember the glint of red metal. “I think it was his sword. I think all of my bullets bounced off his fucking _sword_. How’s that even possible?!”

Yang’s voice broke on the last word. She’d made a promise to Blake, that she would kill him if he entered Mantle. A promise that she hadn’t kept.

“They _bounced_? Off his _sword_?”

“I think so. It was so fast, that it was hard to tell. I just knew that I shot, and none of 'em hit. He said it was a trick to deal with gunslingers. A _worthy investment_, he said.”

Weiss’s brows deepened in a scowl, thinking. “Were you aiming for the sword?”

“I was aiming for his fuckin’ _head_.”

Ordinarily, Weiss would have had something to say about Yang’s liberal cursing, but for once, she let it go unremarked. “A worthy investment,” she repeated thoughtfully. “It must've had something to do with the sword. Maybe something about the metal sort of… attracted the bullets? Like a magnet?”

Yang could have sworn her bullets had taken a mind of their own, curving toward the blade. Of course, it had been too fast for her to truly tell. It was an instinct more than an observation. Bullets never went astray for Yang Xiao Long.

“Are bullets able to be magnetized?”

“I have no idea. But maybe not a magnet, specifically. Maybe it just acted like one. A lot of things are possible these days.”

“Yeah…” And somehow, they were in front of Yang’s house. She’d been so caught up in her conversation with Weiss (or stuck on autopilot), that she hadn’t even known that this was what their destination had been. She turned to Weiss quizzically.

“It might not be best for you to be out in public right now,” she explained, apologetic. “At least until Father talks to the right people. I know he’s already pardoned you, but most people don’t know that, and even then, things are still going to be a bit suspicious until the execution. I’m not putting you under house arrest or anything, but it might be safer to just lay low for a while.”

As much sense as Weiss made, she couldn’t help but feel she was being jailed, too. Then again, being forced away from Blake under any circumstances would feel like a prison.

“Yeah,” she replied distantly.

Weiss had never actually been to Yang’s house before, but Yang couldn’t bring herself to be self-conscious about the sparse furnishings and the dishes in the sink. Lunch dishes. Blake apparently hadn’t gotten to them yet before the White Fang attack.

“It’s so hot in here,” Weiss grumbled, storming over to the kitchen window and cracking it, as if the hot air that trickled in might alleviate the heat. “I don’t know how you stand it.”

“We’re kinda just… used to it,” Yang found herself saying. She went through the motions of taking her hat off and hanging it on its hook, and unbuckling her gunbelt. “We’re not usually here much during the day anyway.”

“I’ll radio Argus as soon as I get back up to the house,” Weiss said decisively as Yang loosened her bandana and pulled it off. “I’ll get the parts ordered for a cooling unit.”

“That’s not--”

“Yang,” Weiss said, turning on her. “If I’m going to be visiting much more, I want to be comfortable.”

She should have been touched that Weiss still seemed hopeful enough to plan for a future. Yang couldn’t see it if Blake wasn’t there. Instead, she pulled out a kitchen chair and plunked into it.

“We’ll come up with something,” Weiss added, settling into her own chair with a bit more dignity. “Both for Blake _and _for my Father. Things can’t keep going as they are.”

“So what’re we s’posed to do about it?” Yang asked bitterly.

“For starters, you can write that note to pass on to Blake.” It was spoken with the air of an order. “And we’ll think on it. We’ve got till Friday.”

“Right.” Yang pushed herself up, startled by how difficult the effort was. Her note would need to be brief, small enough to hide and not attract suspicion.

_Schnee is keeping me from seeing you_, she wrote. _But that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you. I’m going to figure this out. I’m not going to let you die. I love you. Yang._

It probably wasn’t smart to sign her name, but Yang didn’t want this to just be a heartless, anonymous note. If anyone caught it, so be it. She wasn’t afraid to admit that she loved Blake with all her heart. If she was punished for something so little as signing her name, then so be it.

Yang hadn’t realized a tear had dropped out of her eye until it splattered across the paper. She wiped at it hastily, hoping it didn’t smear the ink or leave a mark that Blake could see. She considered rewriting it, but the mark would dry. She wiped at her eye hastily, mentally cursing at herself.

“It’ll be all right, Yang,” Weiss murmured. She hesitated, then put a hand on Yang’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out.”

Weiss wouldn’t be able to return with news of Blake immediately; if Weiss were seen going from Yang’s house to the kennels and back again, it would cause speculation they didn’t need. But Weiss would return that night, with news and hopefully a plan on how to deal with Blake.

“And Father,” she made sure to add seethingly. “If we do something to help Blake, you know he’ll try to stop us. We have to take him down, too. This might be our only shot.”

Yang watched Weiss leave. She didn’t wave, didn’t thank her, didn’t cry. It was hard enough to just hold her thoughts together. They were slipping out of her brain like a sieve, trickling down through her fingers like blood. She couldn’t even keep herself together. How could she help Blake if she couldn’t help herself?

When Weiss rounded out of sight, Yang finally closed the door and went right back to the kitchen. She had a half-full bottle of Jaune’s moonshine. Without pausing to fill a glass, Yang took a swig directly from the bottle, filling her mouth with the burn and forcing herself to swallow, desperate to take the edge off.

It might have been an hour later when a rap at the door gave her a start. She wasn’t completely drunk, but numbness had filled her body with its fuzz, deadening the pain and slowing her thoughts. Still, she exercised caution as she approached her door. She wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been an angry mob, ready to lynch _her _for daring to love a member of the White Fang.

“Who’s it?” she called, words slurring only slightly.

“Jaune Arc! And Pyrrha,” Jaune called, his mild voice unmistakable.

Yang pulled the door open. “C’mon in,” she said, stepping out of the way to let them in. She was grateful to see Jaune had another familiar bottle in hand, setting it on her tabletop. Pyrrha closed the door behind them, giving Yang a quick once-over with alert green eyes.

“You look like shit,” she said.

“Well, I feel that way.” Her hair was frizzing out of the bun she’d attempted to make, and she knew from a quick glance in the mirror moments before that her lilac eyes were red-rimmed. Not waiting on ceremony, Yang sank into her chair. Jaune and Pyrrha exchanged a look, then each took another seat. 

“Ren and Nora wanted to come, too, but we couldn’t leave the saloon _completely _unattended. Even though nobody’s shown up tonight,” Jaune told her, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. Likely everyone was spooked into staying home with their loved ones that night. Yang couldn’t blame them. She would have wanted the same thing.

So all she said was, “Oh.”

“We… heard that Schnee’s ordered for her… execution,” Pyrrha said haltingly. “I’m so sorry, Yang.”

“That was fast,” she muttered.

“Word travels fast ‘round here,” Jaune agreed. He paused. “Did… she really work for the Fang?”

It wasn’t like Jaune to visit someone for gossip, so Yang narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “She’d left ‘em,” she said, rolling her shoulders, the alcohol making her uncaring if they knew the truth of it or not. “And that’s why Adam-- the guy on the horse-- outed her. He was pissed and wanted to get back at her.” She clenched her fist. “I tried to shoot him, but I-- I--”

Pyrrha rose from her seat, scurrying around the table to wrap Yang in an embrace. She’d always been free with hugs and comfort-- not that Yang had ever needed it-- and she was the one drunkards sought out when they wanted to rant about their problems. Maybe it was the bartender in her, Yang thought stupidly as Pyrrha’s arms tightened around her, knowing when a drunk was close to breaking. Still, she didn’t break. She wouldn’t.

“We were talking about that, a bit,” Jaune told them, eyebrows crinkling in concern. “Why that Adam guy woulda exposed her as a spy if she was still doin’ it.”

“Schnee won’t think that far,” Yang replied stonily as Pyrrha released her. She stared at the tabletop. “He don’t care if she’s out. Just being in it in the first place is enough to make her hang.”

“That son of a bitch,” Jaune hissed. “You were right, Yang. Keepin’ our heads down ain’t gonna work.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Pyrrha asked.

“I could stroll into the kennels and kill ever’one in cold blood,” Yang replied, her words sounding fat and wrong. She wasn’t sure how much of that was the alcohol. “And then we could ride off into the night like a couple’a bandits. But… then we’d be up on all the _wanted _posters. And killin’ people like that… just seems wrong.”

Even if Henry deserved it for beating Blake, she thought angrily. The scene had been branded into her skull and she replayed it, over and over and over again. She could never forget the helplessness, of being unable to push through the crowd in time to stop it. The sound of the baton as it hit her. With that image in mind, she could shoot her deputies easily. But the jailers, as far as she knew, had done nothing more than their jobs.

Yet.

“Killing ain’t right,” Pyrrha agreed, reaching a hand out to rest on Yang’s. “There has to be a way.”

“You… ain’t mad?” Yang asked, finally looking back up into their faces. “About her lyin’ about being a human?”

“No,” they said firmly, at the same time. They looked at each other, amused in their simultaneous response, before Jaune continued.

“She’s been nothin’ but a good worker, Yang. And a person. She’s treated everyone well, and’s been a great employee. I don’t hate the Faunus for what they are, Yang. None of us do. It’s just that the people who _do _actually hate Faunus are ten times louder than those who don’t. And that’s the way it’s always been.”

“And none of us look down on _you _for loving Blake, or wanting to protect her,” Pyrrha added firmly. “If anything, the world could use a little more love like that, not less.” She ran her thumb across the top of Yang’s hand comfortingly. “People are on your side, Yang. People _like _Blake, and they trust you. If there’s anything we can do, all you gotta do is say the word.”

Even after Jaune left, Pyrrha stayed for a little while. Maybe she knew the effect that the empty house was having on Yang, or maybe she didn’t. Still, she bustled around, doing the dishes, talking enough to keep the shadows at bay. It made it easier to pretend that this was simply another night, where Blake was working late in the saloon. It didn’t completely alleviate Yang’s hopelessness, but she was grateful to Pyrrha all the same.

It was dark when there was a knock at the door. Pyrrha looked at Yang, eyebrows drawn. “Were you expectin’ a visitor?”

“It’s Weiss,” a voice called from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”

She saw Pyrrha tense; tonight, more than any other night, Weiss could have been nothing more than a Schnee, bringing conflict. Yang nodded.

“Let her in. She’s on our side.”

Looking surprised, Pyrrha unlatched the door and Weiss slipped in. “I just-- oh. Good evening, Miss Nikos.”

“Miss Schnee,” Pyrrha replied politely, bobbing her head.

“Weiss has been tryin’ to help,” Yang explained. “She knew about Blake. Before today, I mean, and she went to the kennels for me, since I couldn’t.”

“She seems to be okay,” Weiss said quickly, taking a seat. “And I made sure everyone knew that I _personally _ordered them not to hurt her.”

“She’s okay?” Yang asked, sitting up a little more straight in her chair.

“From what she says, they were rough with her when they got her into the cell, but she says it’s no worse than what she’s dealt with in city kennels. And they’ve left her alone since. Pointing guns in your deputies’ faces seemed to have left an impression.”

Yang’s shoulders sagged with relief. The anxiety in her stomach unravelled ever-so-slightly. “Thank the _gods_.”

“And I told her about the hanging. I think someone must’ve already let it slip, since she didn’t seem surprised.”

“Or maybe she guessed? She knows a lot about what happens to Faunus out here,” Yang remarked, pushing her chair back onto its rear legs. Pyrrha nodded thoughtfully.

“That, too.” Weiss paused. “And I gave her your note. She was… very grateful for it.”

“Blake,” Yang whispered, closing her eyes, like the word might travel through the streets and into Blake’s heart. “We have to do something.”

“There aren’t any windows in the kennels, so you can’t break in,” Weiss said, thinking out loud. “You might be able to threaten your way inside, but that’s risky.”

“Could you steal the keys?” Pyrrha asked.

“They’ve only got the one set,” Yang said, shaking her head. “They pass them off at the end of each shift.”

“My father has a spare set, but he keeps them in his safe, which I do _not _have access to.” It seemed just the notion of being forbidden access to something was enough to bring an irritated huff out of Weiss. Pyrrha cracked a smile.

“So what’re our options?” Yang asked, impatient to bring the topic back to Blake.

“I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon,” Weiss said slowly. “And I _might_ have an idea. Well, Blake came up with it, actually, but I'm trying to work out the details. It might even depose my father, too, if we do it right. If we’ve got support from the townspeople.”

“She has support from the folks at Crocea Mors,” Pyrrha promsed, nodding. She paused, the rest of Weiss’s claim sinking in. “You’re trying to depose your _dad_?”

“If we do it right. And even if we can’t do that, it _may _still buy time for Yang and Blake to get out of Mantle alive,” Weiss said, nodding. “My father…” She scowled, the scar over her eye pulling at her skin. “People need to know what he’s doing. This has gone on long enough.”

“His favoritism,” Yang said, ticking off her fingers. “His taxes. Whatever the fuck he’s doin’ with the town money for that stupid wall.”

“And the Faunus,” Weiss finished. “It’s like… he’s turning himself into a king out here, with his mine and his money. He won’t even listen when people try to question him about it, and he’s surrounded himself by wealthy fools who think he’s a god or something.”

Yang’s eyebrows shot up and she darted her eyes to Pyrrha, who looked just as surprised. Maybe Weiss’s change of heart wasn’t as recent as she’d thought. She’d made her grievances and organized them like items on her agenda, just waiting to rattle them off.

“I don’t know about your crowd, but I know most of the workin’ class folks would pick Yang if given a choice between her and Schnee,” Pyrrha said, nodding. “I work at a saloon! I hear the complaints. They don’t like the way he runs this town. So maybe we oughta give someone else a shot.”

Both Pyrrha and Weiss turned to Yang. Blood drained from her face.

“Oh, no.”

“Yang, you’re in a position of authority,” Weiss said, leaning in. “People trust you and your skills.”

“But I missed--”

“If you say that one more time, I’m going to knock your head in,” Weiss threatened. “If you missed because of Adam’s sword, that’s something we can explain. Even if it doesn’t, you’ve given enough demonstrations and protected us enough times for people to know that they shouldn’t risk messing with you.”

“That’s true,” Pyrrha said, giving Weiss a small smile. Weiss pretended not to notice it.

“And you always try to uphold the law correctly, even if my father comes around and ruins it. At least people have seen you _try_ to do what’s right. _And_,” Weiss added, this point taking more importance. “You don’t have a stake in the mine. You’re not going to bend rules and laws for the sake of business. You’re not going to let people out of the kennels to preserve business relationships. You’re _impartial_, Yang, and that’s _important_.”

“People trust your judgement,” Pyrrha agreed, her green eyes glittering. “And that’s something people can get behind.”

Yang leaned back, disconcerted. All that mattered to her was getting Blake out of the kennels. But hadn’t Blake wanted something like this to happen all along? Hadn’t they been talking about gathering support for weeks now?

She only wished the catalyst for this upsurge of support had been anything other than this.

“I’m not sayin’ I’m gonna go for mayor,” Yang told them, holding up a warning finger. “But what were you thinkin’ for a plan?”

Weiss grimaced. “You’re not going to like it.”

\--

She didn’t. Yang _hated _the idea, hated what it could mean if they failed. It would depend too much on the support she’d gain from the townsfolk, and on her own confidence as a gunslinger.

_What if she missed again? _a nasty little voice in her head asked. _It would all be for nothing._

She tried to ignore it as she waved Weiss and Pyrrha off. She was the one who suggested Pyrrha walk Weiss home, though she’d been surprised at the quickness they’d agreed to it. On any other day, it was something she might have teased them for, or speculated on.

But she just couldn’t do it. Not with their plan weighing so heavily upon her.

Yang dreaded the idea of going to bed alone. She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to depend on sharing her sleep with Blake, how much she needed to lay beside her every night. Even when Blake worked late and Yang had to sleep early, she could always look forward to feeling the warmth of her body when she came home, and would automatically sink into it. Yang had no idea how she’d been able to sleep alone for so long before Blake.

What would it be like, to wake up alone?

So Yang put it off. She didn’t even go near her room. Instead, she returned to the kitchen, to her bottle of booze, and sat right back down in a kitchen chair. Since Schnee had given her time off, she could afford to stay up late, to give her time to work up the courage to sleep in an empty bed.

She never found that courage, for when she woke the next morning, she was slumped forward, head in her arms, at the kitchen table. The only reason she woke up at all was from the knocking at her door. It wasn’t overly loud, but the constant rapping _felt _loud, the sound vibrating against Yang’s skull painfully. The memories of the day before washed over her, and it suddenly wasn’t the hangover that was making her nauseous.

_Blake_.

With a groan, Yang forced herself out of her chair, rolling her head to snap the crick out of her neck. “Who is it?” she croaked. Still in her clothes from yesterday, she knew she wasn’t the least bit presentable. She hoped it wasn’t anyone important.

“Sun! And Sage, I guess.”

Frowning, Yang fumbled with the latch on her door before wrenching it open. “Wha’d’you want?” she asked sourly.

“Uh…” For a minute, the blonde Faunus man just stood, gaping. Self-consciously, Yang straightened out her shirt. She hoped it wasn’t too stained. Sage nudged him in the side. “Oh! Right. We wanted to… see how you were feeling.”

Yang glared at her stablehands.

“And… right.” Sun grimaced, and Sage rolled his eyes. “We were sorta… talking about it, y’know. About Blake.”

“And what about her?” Yang snapped. It was too early for this, so early that Sun hadn’t even left for the mine yet. Already, she found herself trying to reel back her temper.

“We wanted to say, that we’re sorry about what happened yesterday,” Sage said, eyes flickering to Sun. “Blake’s a good woman. I don’t believe she’d be the type to spy on us.”

“If there’s anything we can do,” Sun added, his long tail swishing, “we got your back.”

Yang forced her tense muscles to relax. They were being kind. There was no reason to feel angry or annoyed with them.

“Well, thanks,” she made herself say, but neither of them turned to go. They exchanged another look. “What?”

Sun looked around, as if checking that there was nobody around close enough to hear them. Still, he lowered his voice. “The Faunus were talkin’ a little last night, too.” He paused, then shook his head. “A _lot_, actually. This is probably one of the biggest deals that’ve happened since the cave-in.”

“Shit,” Yang muttered, repeating his motion of looking around. “C’mon in for a minute.”

She moved, allowing them entrance, gesturing to the table for them to sit. Guiltily, she grabbed her empty bottle, taking it away quickly enough that they wouldn’t be able to question it without sounding rude. She was relieved when they averted their eyes from it. Maybe they understood.

“I know you’ve been tryin’ to help us out. The Faunus. I mean, you hired me when you didn’t have to,” Sun explained, tail swishing. He elbowed Sage in the side. “And now I’ve got a human friend out of it!”

“On your good days,” Sage replied, rolling his eyes.

“Anyway, I _know_ what you’ve been tryin' to do, and after yesterday, it makes more sense. You’ve always been nicer to us than most sheriffs would be, but nobody’s really tried helpin' us more... _directly_,like you’ve started doing.” Sun offered her a bright smile, but Yang didn’t return it. “I’m just sayin’... there’s some Faunus who… think you’re okay. Like, there are always going to be the ones who think you’re just doing it to take advantage of us, like Schnee’s doing, but I’ve _seen _the way you are with Blake. You really love her, huh?”

“Yeah,” Yang said, narrowing her eyes. “So?”

“So, I know this prob’ly isn’t my place to say, but I know this has to be hard on you. I know you’re supposed to hang her tomorrow but… what if you didn’t have to?”

“What d’you mean?”

“If you need any Faunus to help distract the jailers so you can help Blake escape… I know some people who can help! If you want, we can cause a scene, and you can sneak in and break her out.”

“Wouldn’t that get _y’all _in trouble, though?” Yang asked, disbelieving. Sun was only her employee; ultimately, she meant nothing to him. Yet here he was, offering to put his life on the line to help her and Blake.

“I’m a nobody,” Sun said, shrugging. “But _you_… both of you, I mean… you can make a difference. You can escape, and maybe you can help other Faunus somewhere. You and Blake. Together. People will listen to the famous gunslinger and her Faunus girlfriend. You could really change things!”

Yang stared, dumbfounded. “You… really think we can make a difference?”

“You already have!” Sun said, beaming. He elbowed Sage again. “If it wasn’t for you, Sage would’ve just ignored me if we’d passed in the street. But now…”

“I tolerate you,” Sage interrupted with a small chuckle.

“He basically loves me,” Sun said, striking a pose, curling his tail under his chin.

“You’re pushin’ it.”

“Love!” Sun stage-whispered.

Yang watched their back-and-forth warily. Sage hadn’t wanted to work with a Faunus in the first place, but after hardly a fortnight of each other’s company, something had changed. Sun’s peppy personality may have had something to do with it, but just by working with each other, Sage was able to see the humanity in his coworker.

“It… was Blake’s idea, to hire you,” Yang admitted. She would never have thought to hire a Faunus if it hadn’t been for Blake.

“Which is why we want to help you out,” Sun said firmly. “Together, you’ll be unstoppable wherever you go. If she was workin’ for the Fang, I’m sure she's got some good ideas on where to start, even if the Fang in these parts is sorta… bad. And people listen to _you _just for being... you! Think of what you could do, _together_.”

Yang closed her eyes, and found herself nodding. Sun was right. If she and Blake were together… they stood a chance. But alone…

“We’ve… sorta come up with a plan,” she told them slowly, opening her eyes. “You won’t need to cause a disturbance. I'm not gonna risk getting y'all killed just to help us. But if there’s any Faunus who could be there tomorrow and just… I dunno. Be on our side. It would help.”

“Just say the word,” Sun said, leaning in. “We’ve got your back.”

\--

The night before the execution, Yang forced herself to return to her room and lay in bed, listening to the sound of chirping crickets and the pounding of blood in her own ears. She _had_ to be rested for tomorrow. She had to be ready. If anything, she thought it would help her sleep, knowing the sheets still smelled like Blake. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend that Blake was still there, that she was only on the other side of the bed.

Weiss had visited Blake in the kennels again, to explain the details of their plan in hushed voices. Blake needed to be ready for the worst-case scenario.

_Which could still kill her_, Yang pointed out. But it was a risk they had to take. Unless some miracle happened, they’d have to follow through with this dangerous plan. They had no choice.

So Yang needed to sleep. She had to be rested. She couldn’t afford to let down her guard with the execution so near at hand.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

\--

In the middle of the night, her eyes snapped open in panic. Instinctively, she reached out to the far side of her bed, stomach dropping when she realized the nightmare had been true.

Blake wasn’t there. Her execution was scheduled for the next day, and Yang was alone.

Too alone. With a small ache in her chest, Yang rose, desperate for anything to bring her _some _kind of respite. Blindly, she made her way to a corner of the room, where a small chair stood. It wasn’t a chair Yang ever sat in; she used it as a repository of sorts, for clothes that weren’t quite dirty. She picked up one piece of clothing at a time-- a shirt, a vest-- and flung them on the floor when her sleepy mind realized none were what she was looking for.

It didn’t take her long to find it. Blake always kept a woolen sweater nearby, in case the desert nights were overly cool. Yang picked it up and clutched it to her chest; Blake might have only just set it on the chair that night, for it smelled so strongly of jasmine and lemongrass. Yang swallowed a knot in her throat. Blake might have only just been in the other room instead of locked up in the kennels.

Yang returned to bed, burying her face in the wool. She’d hoped it would bring her some comfort, but it only made her heart hurt. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to shed them. Though this was only her second night without Blake, Yang felt the loneliness would swallow her whole. She rolled the fabric between her fingers, wishing it had brought more comfort than it truly did, but it only just made her grief deeper and her heart pound harder. There was still a very real possibility that Blake could die tomorrow, that her scent would fade, that Yang would be alone once again. 

She couldn't miss. She _couldn't _miss. She forced herself to close her eyes, but the anxious thoughts lingered. Sleep would be slow in coming.

The night was long.

\--

It was with a grim face that Yang dressed the next morning. She’d dress to impress on execution day: her nicest shirt, pants that were practically new. Even the bandana she wore around her neck was free of stains. She combed her long hair out, leaving it loose. Not very practical, but dramatic. If the citizens of Mantle wanted a good show, she figured she better look the part.

Honor. Duty. Law. Those were the words a sheriff was supposed to live by, and looking at her reflection in the mirror, she almost looked like the kind of person who upheld them. They were words that Yang had tried so hard to live up to.

And they were all bullshit. The only word that mattered to Jacques Schnee was _privilege_.

She crammed her hat over her hair, then looked herself up and down. There were shadows under her eyes from lack of sleep, but there would be little she could do about them. They wouldn’t be noticed, anyway. Hopefully, her gold sheriff’s star would outshine them. 

In a quick, automatic movement, she checked her revolvers, making sure they were loaded and ready. She trailed a thumb over the engraven roses, trying to take a little comfort from them. She would need her guns today. 

Even in the morning, the desert heat was stifling. Yang had to loosen her bandana just a little as she made her way over to the gallows. The execution was scheduled for noon, but there were still preparations she needed to take care of. She felt stares on her as she did so. Supposedly, Schnee had publicized his pardon of her, but it didn’t stop the judgement. They wouldn’t be satisfied until Blake was swinging in this very spot. 

Yang grabbed a hold of the noose, weighing it in her hand. The rope was heavy, coarse. It had to be uncomfortable, but comfort was of little importance to the condemned. She looked up, gauging the length. The drop would be shallow. Painful. She knew from experience that death would be slow in coming. It would be agonizing.

“Where’s the _bitch_?” a kid taunted from below the scaffold. Yang looked down at him, almost disinterestedly. “I hear they’re hanging your _bitch_ today.”

He sounded too much like a young boy learning how to swear. Yang could forgive the slur. She had to, even when it felt like the word followed her around all morning, falling greasily out of people’s mouths. A snarky part of her wanted to retort that technically, the word wasn’t even accurate; Blake was a cat Faunus, not a dog. But she resisted. She always managed to hold her tongue.

So she didn’t even glare at the boy. She didn’t recognize him, and judging by his lack of drawl, he was new to town. He probably hadn’t even seen any of her shooting demonstrations. If he had, he probably would have thought twice before trying to bait Yang Xiao Long. People knew better than to mess with gunslingers.

But she wasn’t going to waste a bullet by pulling rank. Not today. She released the noose, letting it swing, swing, swing. 

“Execution’s at noon,” she told him shortly. “Unless you wanna join her, I’d get lost till then.”

The boy frowned, puzzled by the lack of reaction. He’d obviously been expecting something more exciting, more fun. With a scowl in her direction, he turned and slunk away.

It wouldn’t be a long wait. The sun was climbing higher and higher in the sky, and the shadows were shrinking. It was the anticipation that would kill her, Yang realized with growing dread. She wanted something to _do_. The inaction, and the slow passage of time, made every second worse. Even if she could just _see_ Blake, and know that was still okay in that moment, maybe it would have given her strength.

Enough strength to fit a noose around her neck.

Slowly, the square began to fill. There were a lot more people than usual; it wasn’t just the typical zealots who liked to watch people die. Many in the crowd were people who had known Blake. Some of them wore expressions of sympathy, others of fear. Some of them ignored her completely, choosing instead to stare at the burnt shell of the town hall beside them. How many of the people in this crowd truly blamed Blake for that? Maybe it was better not to know.

There were more Faunus in the crowd than usual. Typically, they avoided executions, and Yang avoided looking at any one of them for too long. Instead of staying on the edges of the crowd, some of them moved inward. She did see that Sun stood close to Sage, though not so close as to make people whisper.

_Subtlety, _Yang had reminded the men, _is going to be a necessity._

Unlike most hangings, there was less excited chatter and more tension. Everyone in the crowd knew what Blake was to Yang. Everyone knew this wasn’t a normal hanging.

Several figures made their way down the street from the kennels, and Yang’s heart lurched. It wasn’t just Luke and Henry who were escorting Blake from the kennels, but a number of Schnee’s private security team. Yang swallowed a lump in her throat at the sight of Blake’s slight figure being pulled along by the cuffs that bound her hands. They weren’t urging her on with batons or guns, but they were using more force than they needed to. Yang clenched her jaw.

She was aware that Schnee was watching her with a look of wry contempt, trying to tell from her reaction if seeing Blake would break her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. A part of her was surprised that he had come to a hanging in the first place, but she supposed it was his way of seeing if she passed his test.

He did love his little _tests_.

Henry and Luke pulled Blake up the steps, leaving the rest of their escort at its base, like they anticipated Blake would try to run. Though her golden eyes were wide and frightened, Blake didn’t fight her captors. Yang gave her a curt nod, the only acknowledgement she felt she could give without giving away her true emotions.

“The murdering _bitch_!” someone in the crowd shrieked, breaking the eerie silence. There was a small flare of mutterings, though Yang refused to react to them. A few of the more excited townsfolk pushed their way closer, eager to watch. She saw Eclectus standing in the same place he had for the last execution, hooting up at Blake with a wild look in his eye.

Yang didn’t move as her deputies placed Blake over the trapdoor. Roughly, they uncuffed her and wrenched her arms around her back, binding her wrists together with rope. Even from her vantage point, Yang could see how the ropes dug into Blake’s skin more tightly than necessary. Yang’s gaze lingered on her wrists, but said nothing.

Hangings were never about comfort, and she couldn’t cause a scene by objecting.

At Yang’s nod, the pastor began to read aloud. “Unto the gods, this soul shall be returned…”

She glanced again at Schnee, and only then saw Weiss standing in his shadow. She wasn’t even paying attention to Yang; her blue eyes kept darting from Blake to the ground, body visibly tensed. Waiting.

All eyes were on Yang as she approached Blake, sack in hand. It was the closest they’d been in days, and Yang wished she could have scooped the woman into her arms then, to reassure her that it would all be okay. 

“I need to put this over your head,” she murmured, holding up the sack.

“Lights out, kitty-cat!” she heard Eclectus taunt, laughing with the thrill of an imminent hanging. They ignored him. Blake nodded, and only then could Yang see how short her breathing had become, how she shook _so _slightly. She clenched her fists, reminding herself not to touch, not to display any sort of reassurance. She had a job to do.

She hated herself for her coldness.

She slipped the sack over Blake’s head, then fitted the dangling noose around her neck. She tightened it as gently as she could, knowing it was still bound to scratch, to bruise. She tried to ignore the smell of sweat and fear. She stepped away from the trapdoor and gave the priest a nod, to give the last words. She wrapped her fingers around the lever.

“May the gods have mercy on your soul,” he rasped.

Yang pulled the lever.

She couldn’t afford to stare as Blake fell through the opened door, but she did see the way the rope gave a violent jerk at its weight. She knew Blake’s legs would kick out automatically as she fought for air, but she couldn’t let herself focus on that. If she did, she would shake, and she couldn’t shake now. She only had seconds and she needed steadiness.

Wordlessly, Yang pulled out both guns. In her periphery, she saw Henry and Luke give a start. They leaped back, shocked, as Yang aimed one revolver at the rope. She fired once, then twice.

Yang Xiao Long could hit an apple from a mile away, children often whispered.

Yang Xiao Long was the best shooter in all of Remnant, drunkards would claim in saloons as they raised their mugs to toast her.

Yang Xiao Long never missed.

Perhaps some of it was exaggeration. Perhaps some of it was truth.

But she could hit a fucking rope.

The two shots hit the rope in the same spot, blasting through the thick material. Blake dropped to the ground.

Weiss was ready. She flew to Blake, pulling the sack and noose off and cutting her free from the binding ropes while Yang flipped the switch on her revolvers. She aimed behind herself and fired. Explosive Dust launched her forward, propelling her from the scaffold. She hit the ground in front of the crowd, landing in a crouch, blonde hair bouncing behind her on impact. She heard Blake’s sputtering coughs, but she couldn’t turn to her. Not yet.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Schnee roared in outrage, stepping forward. Around them, the crowd churned in agitation and excitement, but all fell silent as Yang spun her revolvers on Schnee.

“Don’t,” she warned. She took a step forward of her own, and the people closest to her stepped back. “It ends here, Jacques.”

“Are-- are you out of your _mind_?” he demanded, his voice climbing shrilly. “What have you done? Henry, Luke, seize--”

“No.” Yang raised her revolvers just a bit higher, a threat. Jacques closed his mouth, though his mustache quivered and the hand gripping his cane tightened. Back on the scaffold, she saw one of the deputies make a move for his holster. Keeping one gun on Schnee, she swung her arm around to aim at the movement. It stopped. They all knew how quickly she could shoot.

Out of the corner of her eye, she also saw Weiss shift, angling herself between Blake and the crowd. Both of them had expected what had happened, and what could still go wrong. Yang had to keep the crowd distracted so Blake could get away, to get to where Bumblebee was waiting. They had the element of surprise on their side, and at least they were off the scaffold. From here, Yang could have better control of the situation.

“I’m doin’ what I shoulda done long ago,” Yang explained, scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble. “This ain’t a town.”

The din of excited chatter began to rise in volume, drowning out her words. Her eyes blazed red. She raised one revolver and fired into the air.

Silence.

“That’s better,” Yang said, lowering the gun slightly, but still keeping one trained on Schnee. “Are we gonna listen now?”

Silence again. Maybe Schnee had been onto something when he’d said that people listened to gunslingers.

“I’ve been your sheriff for almost a year now,” she reminded them, keeping her voice light and easy. If anything, they needed to remember that she’d always been friendly with them, that no one ever had any reason to mistrust her. She was counting on that respect. “I’ve gotten to know y’all pretty well during this time. I’ve been to your parties, bought you drinks. Whenever there’s a problem, _y’always _come to me. Well, now, I’m comin’ to you.”

She wanted to look behind her, to make sure that Weiss was sneaking Blake away, but she didn’t dare.

“This ain’t a town,” Yang repeated. “This is a kingdom.” She jutted her chin in Schnee’s direction. “Jacques here’s appointed himself king, and we’re all nothin’ more than his subjects. He thinks he owns you, and I’m here to remind y’all that he doesn’t own this town. _You _do.”

She spun her guns on her fingers, making it look lazy, effortless. A gentle reminder of what she was capable of. She lowered her guns a little more.

“There’s trouble brewin’,” she continued. A rare desert wind caught her hair, blowing through her hair. It felt good; she was sweating bullets. “What happened the other day is only gonna get worse. And ya know why?” She raised an elbow to gesture at the gallows behind her. “_This_. Y’all were about to hang a woman without a _trial_. I’ve watched Faunus get hung for the exact same things Jacques Schnee lets his _lackies _get away with.” She turned her stare to him, gratified when his mouth opened and closed silently, like his jaw had a broken hinge. “I’ve seen the hangings. The whippings. I nearly up and left this town when I first saw a brand on someone’s cheek.”

The crowd shifted uncomfortably. Even most casual racists could admit that branding was taking matters too far, though nobody ever argued it. It was easier to turn a blind eye for the sake of keeping the peace. Nobody wanted to risk questioning Schnee.

Well, not anymore.

“And it ain’t just the Faunus,” she went on. There would need to be more than just a Faunus-related reason to build her support; so many of the crowd were too set in their racist ways. “Leaving him in charge threatens each and every one of you. He has shown, time and again, that if you’re rich enough, you can get out of trouble. And where will that end? How long will it be till he starts arrestin’ y’all to give a leg up to his own circle? More than once, I’ve come into work to find he’s let someone out of the kennels just for bein’ friendly with him. How am I s’posed to be a sheriff when someone comes runnin’ up behind me, undoin’ every law I try to enforce?”

There were murmurings in the crowd, but they sounded more thoughtful than hostile. Hopefully, her allies were spreading their anecdotes of how Schnee had wronged them, their family, their friends. While she could give as many speeches as she wanted, it would ultimately be true stories that made her case. Schnee was a real problem, and people needed to understand how close to home it could hit.

“I’m sorry to say I’ve failed y’all as sheriff,” Yang told them, setting her jaw. “A real sheriff would never have let one man own a whole town like Schnee’s done. I was a fool. I thought that since he brought me here, that since he paid me, I answered to him. Well, no more. Now, I answer to you, and I mean _all _of you. Human _and_ Faunus.

“The White Fang attacked us because of behavior like this.” She angled her head toward the taunting gibbet, eyes never leaving the crowd. “Like it or not, the only way we’re ever gonna have real peace is if we work together here. If y’all don’t suck it up and learn to compromise, there’s gonna be more death. It won’t just be the town hall that burns. That’s a guarantee.”

“Seize her!” Schnee seemed to have gotten over his shock at last. He was quivering with fury, pointing a shaking finger in Yang’s direction. But it was like a spell had been cast. The deputies, and even his security team had frozen, too uncertain to follow anyone’s orders. They all stared at Yang, numb with shock.

It was Weiss who broke the silence. She came forward, standing beside Yang, and giving her father a baleful stare. “I stand with her,” she declared solemnly.

“And so do I.”

“Blake?” Yang’s eyes flicked over to Blake, who came to stand on her other side, placing a steadying hand on Yang’s back. She looked exhausted, her golden eyes sunken in and her long hair greasy. She was still just as beautiful as she’d always been.

She hadn’t run, after all.

“I thought--” Yang began, but Blake interrupted with a tired smile and a shake of her head.

“I’m not letting you have all the fun,” she replied, voice low and scratchy from her ordeal. Goosebumps ran down Yang’s back, underneath her shirt and Blake’s hand. It felt so _nice_, to touch again.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, stop,” Weiss muttered. She raised her voice. “Citizens of Mantle! This is a discussion I want the whole town to have a part in. I want you to go to your homes, and think about how this town ought to be run. This is something you _all _deserve a say in. And since the town hall is… unavailable, we’ll meet back here tomorrow morning at nine. Unless a more suitable venue can be found, in which case, we’ll spread the word. We’ll hold an open forum, and from there, we can discuss--”

“What about _her_?” someone demanded, pointing a finger at Blake. Yang tightened her grip on her guns.

“Sentencing will be suspended until we have a new mayor,” Weiss snapped. “Until this whole mess has been straightened out.”

“_Weiss_,” Schnee hissed, his voice taking a deadly turn. “_I _am the mayor.”

“You were never formally elected,” Yang pointed out. “You just sorta… took charge.”

And there it was, in the open. The shade of red his face turned clashed horribly with his white moustache. He almost looked like a caricature of the seedy businessman he was, white-knuckling his cane and a sour expression on his face. Yang smiled.

“Let’s turn Mantle into a town again.”

\--

Yang had expected _some _argument as she tugged Blake along by the hand through the crowd. She had braced herself for a fight. But while people stared at them as they left, nobody said a word or made a move. It was like the townsfolk were too shocked to argue.

Still, Yang didn’t want to push their luck. She fought the urge to pull Blake into her arms and kiss her right there; for the more racist people in town, that might have been the thing to tip them over the edge and back onto Schnee’s side. For now, at least, they needed to play it safe. It was only when they rounded the corner and were completely out of sight that Yang dropped Blake’s hand.

Wordlessly, she turned to her, wrapping her arms around her waist and pulling her in. “God, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s get home first,” Blake replied. Though her arms snaked automatically around Yang, her eyes flickered back in the direction of the gallows. “It’s not safe here.”

Yang nodded, and they moved quickly through the streets, Yang’s hand flat against Blake’s lower back. She didn’t want to go a second without touching her. 

When they got back to the house, Yang latched the door behind them. Only then did she heave a sigh of relief. Safe in the house, Blake finally allowed herself to sink against Yang, letting almost her whole body weight collapse against her.

“You okay, baby?” Yang asked softly, arms going around her to hold her up.

“I’m just… so tired,” Blake said faintly. “I haven’t gotten much sleep.”

“Here, let’s sit down for a minute…” Carefully, Yang led Blake over to the kitchen table and guided her down onto one of the chairs. Once seated, she looked Blake up and down. She’d need a bath before she could go to bed, and would need any injuries tended to. But they could stop for a minute to breathe.

“Weiss seems to have it pretty well under control out there,” Blake commented, pushing herself up in the chair and forcing her eyes open. She rubbed absently at her wrists.

“She’s better at the politicking,” Yang agreed. “Let me take a look at that.” 

She knelt in front of Blake, taking her hands and examining her wrists. The ropes had dug into her skin and chafed, leaving angry red marks. 

“I’m fine,” Blake told her, smiling slightly. “I’m alive. That’s enough for me.”

“And since you’re alive, that means we’ve got time to tend to all this.” Overall, her wrists would have no lasting damage, though they were already beginning to blush with bruise.

Her neck was far worse, and Yang was reminded again how easily Blake could have died that day. Had she taken too long to shoot, had her hand trembled _just _a little, had she _missed_…

She brushed her fingers across Blake’s darkening neck so lightly that it could hardly be considered a touch at all, almost afraid to touch the ligature marks that encircled her neck. Yang bit her lip, trying to fight off the nausea that came with thinking about what might have been.

“I didn’t want you to drop,” she said, voice choking slightly as her fingers followed the curving bruise. “I had hoped… but there were too many guards, and I wouldn’t have been able to get you down the steps. I swear, I didn’t want to pull that lever, and I made sure the drop wouldn’t break your neck, but--”

“Shhh.” Blake pressed a finger to Yang’s lips, silencing her. “Weiss told me you’d probably have to pull it. I was ready. I trusted her, and I trusted you. I knew you wouldn’t let me die.”

“And now you’re hurt.” Yang couldn’t break her eyes away from the choker of a bruise. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“It’s better than being dead,” Blake replied, ever the realist. She reached a hand out to cup Yang’s cheek. “I’m okay. I promise.”

Yang breathed out, then nodded. Injuries would heal, she reminded herself. Injuries were better than being dead.

“I’m gonna draw up a bath, and then I can give you some of that stuff for the bruises,” Yang told her, pushing herself back up to her feet. “And then you can get some sleep. Both of us can.”

“You look like you could use it, too,” Blake agreed. 

“Probably not as badly as you do.”

“We are _not_ playing that game. Just because _I_ could use a little sleep doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to need the same thing.”

With a chuckle that she didn’t really feel, Yang leaned in, brushing her lips against Blake’s. Her lips were chapped, and her breath was stale from two days in the kennels, but in that moment, the contact was what Yang’s soul craved. Her weary, aching soul.

“Maybe I should bathe before you get too caught up that,” Blake remarked, breaking the kiss with a sad smile. “I’m pretty gross.”

“I’ve spent months on the range with a bunch of cattle,” Yang replied firmly. “I can handle a little bad breath.”

Blake let out a laugh, a full-bodied laugh, then grimaced, a hand going to her stomach. Yang’s face fell. She’d tried to forget the sight of Henry raising his baton, and the way it sounded as it cracked against Blake.

“Can I?” she asked, fingers going to Blake’s blouse. Tiredly, she nodded, and Yang slowly began to unbutton it. With each button, a little more color was revealed, and Yang’s face was a storm when she slid the blouse off of Blake’s shoulders. She stared in disbelief. Leaving the White Fang was supposed to put an end of Blake’s bruises, but her abdomen was a myriad of purples, maroons, yellows, and greens. This couldn’t have just been from the few _whacks_ Henry had given her in the street. “Oh, baby,” Yang murmured, eyes glinting with barely-restrained fury. “What did they do to you?”

Blake shook her head slowly. “I’ve had it worse, in the cities,” she mumbled. “Your deputies, the jailers… they thought I was responsible for a massacre.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“But that’s what they felt was right. The way they see it, it’s no different than kicking a dog that’s attacked someone.”

“I told them not to,” Yang seethed. “By the gods, I’ll kill them.”

“That’s not going to help our cause.”

“But I’ll feel a lot better about it. Gods, I thought you told Weiss you were okay!”

“I was. Honestly, they left me alone once they got me in the cell, I promise.” Blake cupped Yang’s cheek. “And I’m alive now. We can fix this.”

Yang took a deep breath and forced herself to nod, trying to restrain her rising temper. They had to focus on what they _could _change. She’d fire both her deputies, Schnee be damned. Slowly, Blake stood, taking a hold of Yang’s arm. “We will.”

While they waited for the bathtub to fill, Yang finished stripping Blake, tossing her dirty clothes into the corner. Blake didn’t fight it, hands set on Yang’s waist as she stepped out of her skirts. Yang held her close as she reached around her back to unlatch her bra, pressing a small kiss to her hair when Blake rested her head against Yang’s shoulder. Maybe she was too tired to fight.

The bruises, in the end, weren’t as extreme as the ones Yang had gotten from the Deathstalker, but they would certainly warrant the use of her bruise salve. Right after the bath, Yang would take care of all of them. 

She sat on the edge of the tub, balancing carefully to pull Blake onto her lap, her whole body flooding with relief and love as Blake curled into her. Her arms stretched around Yang’s neck, burrowing her face into its curve as Yang traced a hand up her spine, as if making sure each bone was right where it should be. They were, and Yang cradled them all, an arm wrapped around Blake’s bare waist, though not tight enough to hurt. Blake’s ears flattened at the gentle caresses. This would never happen again. Yang wouldn’t let it.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured into Blake’s hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“None of this was your fault, Yang,” Blake said softly, finally bringing her head up. “None of it.”

Yang nodded, but still wasn’t sure if she believed it.

Blake was perfectly capable of bathing herself, but she seemed to sense that Yang would take comfort in helping. Running her hands over Blake’s body reminded her that for all the bruising, Blake was still intact. There were no broken bones, no bullet wounds, no open sores. She scrubbed the sweat and grime away, and though her back and abdomen were colorful, and though she’d bear the marks around her wrists and neck for some time, she was okay. Blake closed her eyes, tipping her head back into the water, her long black hair falling behind her with perfect sleekness. Yang trailed her fingers over the outline of her collarbone, over her shoulder, and down her arm.

She was all in one piece. She was okay.

Blake went straight to their bed after the bath, not bothering to get dressed. It was too hot for blankets, but she curled atop them, burying her face in her pillow like she’d never felt anything so soft in her life. Yang left her only long enough to run back to the kitchen and grab a few slices of bread, which she slathered with a thick layer of strawberry preserves; Yang knew what meal rations were like in the kennels. She also made sure to dig out the bruise salve, knowing how much Blake would need it.

Though Blake was already half-asleep, she roused at the temptation of real food, ears perking up visibly and pushing herself up to sit. She nearly inhaled the whole first slice. It was cute, and would have been amusing had Yang not felt so ashamed about why Blake had been so hungry in the first place.

She handed her the second slice wordlessly, sitting on the bed beside her and unscrewing the cap to the jar of salve. Blake eyed it, but didn’t argue against Yang’s ministrations. She straightened, too tired to argue against it.

As Blake ate, Yang worked small fingerfuls of minty balm into her skin. She rubbed it into Blake’s neck and wrists, wishing she could rub the marks away, but with each inch, Blake’s muscles loosened and unknotted. The expensive price of the salve was worth it, just to give Blake that relief and watch her expression ease. With a blissful sigh, Blake sank back into the mattress, one arm sliding under the pillow as she pulled it close. For a short moment, she closed her eyes.

“You know Weiss is gonna nominate you for mayor, right?” Blake asked, eyelids fluttering open. Exhaustion made them almost look bruised. “At the forum tomorrow.” 

“Yeah,” Yang mumbled, unbuttoning her own shirt, wanting to feel Blake’s skin against her own. Two nights without it had been too long, and her nerves were shot. It was a simple comfort that both of them could appreciate.

“You’d make a great mayor. They love you here.”

“I’m not sure they will, especially after this afternoon. Hell, I already failed as a sheriff.”

“Don’t say that,” Blake said sternly, though her gaze was gentle. “Of course they will. The only people who won’t are the ones who work with Schnee, and there’s not _that _many of them. If the Faunus could vote, you’d be a guarantee.”

“There’s still gonna be plenty of folks who’ll look down on me for siding with the Faunus,” Yang said doubtfully, flinging her clothes carelessly to the opposite wall. “Honestly, someone else might be a better mayor. I’m not even sure I want it.”

“Why not? You could do so much good.”

“I’m not like Weiss. I’m not good at politics,” she grumbled, swinging her legs onto the bed and scooting closer to Blake. There was no better balm for her soul than the warmth of Blake’s skin, and she wriggled close enough to touch. Blake sighed with sleepy gratitude, nuzzling her shoulder.

“Well, you’re good with people,” Blake assured her, a hand coming up to curl into Yang’s hair. “And if you follow through with sticking up for the Faunus, you’ll have them at your back, too.”

“I s’pose.” Yang hesitated, uncertain if her next idea would be too far-fetched. “Would… the White Fang be open to talks, d’you think? With the real leader, I mean, not Adam.”

Blake’s eyebrows shot up as she looked Yang in the eye. “Like… peace talks?”

“Yeah. If we could stop the attacks… it'd go a long way.”

Blake tilted her head, the sharp angles of her jaw so delicate. “Sienna… doesn’t hold the same kind of grudge Adam does, that’s true… but she isn’t the best negotiator. You’d really have to show that progress is being made.” She paused, frowning slightly. “You’d have to prove yourself. Not just you, but the whole town. But if you did that… she might be willing to work with you.”

“Prove myself,” Yang muttered, leaning her forehead against Blake’s. Just thinking about it was exhausting, and none of it was even set in stone. This was all on the hope that enough of the town would consider her to be mayor material, which she wasn’t ready to bet on. She had allies, but would they be enough to sway the people in town who were uncertain about her?

“Yang…” Blake said softly, hesitantly. “It’s… not just Sienna. Even if we win her over… Adam is still gonna cause problems.”

“Adam.” Yang’s eyes narrowed. He’d come to Mantle expecting to be untouchable, and he had been.

“He’s…” Blake’s body twitched, the barest movement that Yang nonetheless caught. It was like she wanted to curl in on herself, to disappear. Tenderly, Yang opened her arm and Blake slid into her touch even further, the nakedness of their bodies flush against each other. She lay her head against Yang’s chest. “He’s just… He’s not gonna let it rest. He’s too spiteful for that.”

“Then it’s a good thing he ain’t the leader.” Yang brushed a hand across Blake’s forehead, pushing back strands of hair. “If he tries anything here, I’ll kill him. I don’t miss.”

But she slammed her mouth shut, heart sinking. She couldn’t say that anymore. She _had _missed. That was why they were in the position they were in.

Well, she thought grimly, he wouldn’t catch her by surprise like that again. She would expect that trick if he returned.

As if sensing the darkness of Yang’s thoughts, Blake lifted her head up, her lips slotting against Yang’s with a gentle kind of love that made the darkness fade away. All that was left was Blake and her light.

“Gods,” Yang murmured. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if this hadn’t worked. If you’d--”

“Don’t,” Blake said firmly. “We’re okay now.”

“I just…” Yang went on distantly, too lost in her own thoughts to stop now. “It shoulda never come to that.” She swallowed a knot in her throat, surprised by the sting of tears in her eyes that she tried to blink back. “I don’t know how I coulda lived with myself if I lost you. Before you, I was just… goin’ wherever my guns took me. I’ve never really had much of a… a purpose, till now. It’s like… they were all I had. My guns help me survive, y’know, but _you _help me _live_. And to think that I’d almost lost that…”

Her words trailed off, and she bit the inside of her cheek. Blake’s grip around her tightened, stroking her back with a thumb. “Yang,” she said softly. “You didn’t lose anything today. I’m right here, and I always will be. I trusted you today. I knew you wouldn’t let me die. And you didn’t.”

It was hard to reconcile this Blake with the one who’d told her, just a few months ago, _I don’t trust._ It had been almost like a dare, one that Yang accepted. And now, she trusted Yang with her life.

Since the beginning, they’d given little pieces of themselves to each other, to hold and care for, until Blake had as much of Yang as she had of herself. Losing Blake would have meant losing those parts of herself, too. Together, they were complete.

“You proved me right today,” Blake added, her voice low. “I trust you, Yang. I love you.”

She brought her lips back to Yang’s, her kiss so light that it might have only been a thought. So Yang kissed her back, harder. This was _more _than just a thought. She felt Blake’s breath against her mouth, drinking in her air. It was proof that Blake was alive. That she had _survived _through that day.

“I love you, too,” she replied gently, then kissed Blake again. Together, they would do more than survive. They would live, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we (finally) made it to the scene from my Bumbleby Week oneshot! This is FAR from the end of the fic, and there is more angst to come, but it feels like I've hit a milestone getting to the oneshot scene. Thanks for reading, and showing enough interest in it that made me want to continue the fic!
> 
> Thanks again to Aziminil for beta-ing and to clam fam for ironing out the kinks in a few sections.
> 
> ALSO, big thank you to @cptdanvxrs for drawing [this amazing art](https://cptdanvxrs.tumblr.com/post/188220904241/heres-a-quick-unfinished-not-cleaned-drawing) from the dancing scene in the last chapter!! I love it and I'm crying bitch tears up in here.


	8. Chapter 8

So many _eyes_.

After the events of the day before, Yang had expected the stares as she and Blake walked through town. Blake hadn’t bothered to hide her ears under a bow; there was no point. Everyone knew what she was. Still, her ears had flattened somewhat against her head with uneasiness. People stared at them openly, and while Yang had expected this, she hadn’t realized just how many pairs of eyes would be watching their every move.

It was easy to forget how many people lived in Mantle, or on the outlying ranches, until they were all gathered in one place. She tightened her grip on Blake’s hand, and Blake squeezed it back.

The crowd parted before them, giving them a wide berth as they made their way down the street. Some people murmured words of encouragement, but Yang still felt the hot glares from others in the crowd. She could only hope those glares were in the minority. If too many people were on Schnee’s side, Yang would have no choice but to flee town. Her life, and Blake’s, would be in jeopardy if Schnee emerged victorious.

What surprised her was how many of the stares came from the Faunus. She’d grossly underestimated just how many lived in Mantle, indentured to Schnee. She’d never seen so many of them in one place, but here they were, most of them on the fringes of the crowd, identifiable by tails and large ears and horns and tusks. There were so _many_.

Which was all the more reason they needed to hold this forum.

Still, leading the forum from the scaffold felt like some kind of sick joke. The very scene where Blake should have died, now the spot that would hopefully lead Mantle toward a brighter future. Blake had tried to convince her that some pretty metaphor might be pulled from this, but Yang felt nothing but anxiety as they climbed the steps. She would have rather led the forum from anywhere else, but there were no other places in town that could accommodate a crowd this size. The town hall was still a ruin, and they needed a platform where they could speak from. The gallows was the only place that fit the bill.

Weiss was already there, as was Pyrrha. They’d dragged a small table and a few chairs up the steps, arranging them as best they could to make it look like a meeting place instead of an execution site. Weiss set a small sheaf of papers onto the table, weighing them down with a rock so they wouldn’t blow away.

What startled Yang was how disheveled Weiss looked. Though her hair was neatly brushed and braided, she was wearing the same skirt she’d worn yesterday, slightly wrinkled, and a blouse that was much too baggy, with sleeves rolled up. Eyebrow raised, Yang exchanged a quick look with Blake.

“Should we set a chair up for your father, too?” Pyrrha asked, glancing over her shoulder from where she was arranging the seats. “Oh, hello there, Yang. Blake. You two about ready for the forum?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Yang replied with a grimace.

“Yeah, he’ll probably want to sit up here,” Weiss sighed, then pulled her weighted papers down to the very end of the table, like her fingers were itching for something to do. “Yang, you’ll need to be careful. He’ll try to take charge of the discussion.”

“I had a feelin’. Y’all right, Weiss?”

Weiss’s head snapped up, looking almost surprised by the question. There were bags under her eyes. “Of course I am.”

“She was up most of the night, preppin’ for this,” Pyrrha explained, giving Weiss a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “And then her nerves--”

“I am _not _nervous!” Weiss snapped, but her shoulders relaxed under the pressure of Pyrrha’s hand.

“I know _I_ would be, stickin’ up to a guy like your dad,” Pyrrha said soothingly.

“No shit,” Yang put in. “I know _I _am.”

“Not to mention I’ll probably get lynched if this all goes wrong,” Blake added mildly. Yang turned to her, narrowing her eyes, wondering how Blake could manage any sort of smile with a remark like that. Sensing Yang’s surge of anxiety, Blake slipped a hand around her waist. “No, I know you won’t let that happen.”

“Damn straight.”

“So how are you feeling, Blake?” Weiss asked, looking eager to keep the conversation from coming back to her.

“Not as bad as I expected,” she replied, eyes darting up to Yang. “I had a great nurse.”

Her collar was low enough to display the dark bruise around her neck. At first, she’d wanted to hide it, not wanting to draw even more attention to herself; her ears alone were bad enough. But as Yang had rubbed the salve into her skin that morning, she’d convinced her to bare it.

_Make them see what they did to you, _she’d told Blake, fingers working gently onto the bruise. The smell of the minty balm was refreshing so early in the morning. _Show them the consequences of what they did_.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” Weiss said, her smile tired. “This has been… a hellish few days.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” Yang snorted. “You stayed with Pyrrha last night?”

“She was worried her dad was gonna put her under house arrest,” Pyrrha replied, nodding.

“I wouldn’t have put it past him, to keep me from coming out today.” Weiss looked up at Pyrrha, cheeks tinging pink. “Thanks again for that.”

“Anytime.”

“House arrest?!” Yang demanded, fuming. “If he ever does that to you--”

“Speak of the devil,” Blake muttered, and all of them looked down at the ground. Flanked by his men, Schnee strode purposefully toward the scaffold. His icy stare lingered for a moment on Weiss, who stiffened, but Yang saw Pyrrha’s hand slip around to her back.

“Father,” Weiss said by way of greeting. He didn’t even respond to it, instead focusing on Yang.

“Sheriff.” He nodded, the barest inclination that Yang hardly noticed. “You’ve caused quite a stir here, haven’t you?”

“Someone had to,” Yang replied politely, though she had to restrain her fingers from twitching toward her guns. He made a short _hmph_, his bushy eyebrows furrowing in disapproval.

“I will join you up there, of course,” he went on, almost daring her to argue. But Yang only nodded amiably.

“Of course,” she echoed, surprised at how easily she was able to keep her voice calm, even though she gnashed her teeth together. He turned to his men, muttering something.

“I’m gonna go find Jaune and everyone,” Pyrrha told them, giving them an apologetic smile. “This ain’t really my place. But I’ll find y’all when it’s through.”

“Okay,” Weiss replied faintly, already tense again. She was still watching her father, who had seemed to dismiss most of his men, only keeping a couple on hand to lead up the steps. Pyrrha frowned, looking back over to him, and then leaned over. She murmured something into Weiss’s ear that Yang couldn’t quite catch, but Weiss blinked and looked away from her father, shoulders relaxing slightly. She nodded.

“Good luck, Yang,” Pyrrha said, straightening. “We’ll be rootin’ for you down there.”

Luck. They were going to need it.

Yang was relieved when Weiss took on the role of moderator. Agenda in hand, she stood before the crowd, carefully to the side of the trap door. It wouldn’t open unless someone pulled the lever, but she didn’t seem to trust the mechanism that kept it closed.

“Citizens of Mantle!” she announced. It would be more difficult to make sound travel without the acoustics of the town hall, but it was the best they could do. People would relay what she said through the crowd. “We’ve called you here this morning to discuss, and gather ideas for, changes to this city. Too much of the town has been the same since its founding, and as such, the management of a town this size needs major updating.”

Yang glanced over at Schnee, where he sat on the opposing side of the gallows from herself and Blake. His eyes had narrowed into slits, but Weiss seemed to be speaking as neutrally as she could manage. Blake tilted her head slightly, intent on every word.

“My father has done a commendable job in getting this town off its feet,” Weiss went on, giving Schnee a hurried look. “But now it’s time for the town to take its government into its own hands.”

“Maybe I should nominate _her_ for mayor,” Yang muttered, but Blake shook her head.

“She’s a Schnee,” she replied regretfully, keeping her voice low. “And the heiress. Too much conflict of interest with the mine, not to mention Schnee might try to control her. Besides, the Faunus won’t trust her. Not yet, anyway.”

Yang winced, and nodded. The thought of being nominated for mayor still made her uneasy, but it would be better than keeping things as they were. Schnee’s expression remained unchanged as he stared at Weiss’s profile.

Weiss’s plan, which she explained to the gathered town, was deceptively simple. Most cities had a mayor and a city council, all voted in by the townspeople. All major decisions would be put before the town and voted upon, whether it involved law or the building of municipal structures. This, Weiss added, would only be the beginning. Power wouldn’t solely be in the hands of one person. Even the mayor, who had the most power, would be held in check by the city council. Everything would have its system. Everything would have its place.

“Ah,” Schnee remarked, nodding slowly. There was still something calculating in his eyes that Yang didn’t trust, and she frowned as he rose. “That’s settled, then. We’ll set up a council to serve alongside me. If that was all the reason for kicking up a fuss--”

“Actually,” Weiss said, and his expression clouded at the interruption. She looked to brace herself. “It would be best to choose a new mayor by election.”

“Pardon?”

“Then, I nominate Jacques Schnee!” One of the men who had sat with Schnee leaped up, like he had been waiting for this moment. Schnee’s mustache gave a satisfied twitch. The crowd began to mutter among themselves.

“And I nominate Yang Xiao Long,” Weiss shot back, folding her arms.

“Yang for mayor!” someone in the crowd hooted.

“_Yang_,” Schnee sneered. “And what qualifications could you _possibly _have for being a mayor?”

She nearly got up then, to remind him that he’d been confident enough to make her a sheriff, but she never got a chance to open her mouth. Weiss picked up her stack of paper from underneath its rock, looking grimly determined.

“Actually,” she said, “I’ve made a list.”

Yang felt her face turn hot as Weiss went through her list, point by point. Blake quietly reached for her hand, which Yang took, conscious of her sweaty palms. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had praised her for anything beyond her shooting skills, but here was Weiss, the last person she would’ve expected to give her any kind of praise, laying it all out before the entire town.

“You’re blushing, love,” Blake murmured, lips quirking with amusement. “I didn’t know you had it in you to be embarrassed about anything.”

“Shh.” Yang pretended to elbow her, not wanting to hurt her bruises by actually doing so. “This is different.”

“And you all know she tries to hold everyone to the same standard,” Weiss explained, gesturing to Yang. “Whether it’s Faunus or human, rich or poor, she’ll expect everyone to follow the law. She’s never shown preferential treatment in the case of--”

“Except her _bitch_!” someone called from the crowd. Yang’s head shot up, but she couldn’t tell who’d yelled it.

“In this case, she was protecting someone who hadn’t been given a fair trial,” Weiss snapped. “That was actually an excellent demonstration of justice. With Yang as mayor, she’ll ensure that everyone, even the Faunus, are entitled to a trial. Yesterday was proof of her convictions.”

Yang turned back to Blake, utterly bewildered how Weiss could smoothly turn an insult into more fuel for her speech. Blake sucked her lips in, trying to hide a smile.

That thought also seemed to serve as a segue into a more aggressive tactic. Weiss carefully slid the top paper to the bottom of her sheaf, took a deep breath, and continued.

“Too long, this town has seen inequality, and I’m not just talking about the difference between Faunus and humans. There’s a divide between the rich and the poor, between the businessmen who work for my father and the working class to which most of you belong. Many of you know, and have complained to Yang about, the preferential treatment Jacques Schnee gives toward his associates. Tax breaks, giving them priority on new properties, even letting them out of the kennels if they’ve committed a crime. These are all things that many of you are already aware of, but I’m also here to shed some light on other…. _issues _that my father has raised as mayor.”

So much for neutrality.

Yang had to keep her jaw from dropping as Weiss began to describe the situation of the city finances. As sheriff, she was largely aloof from the financial aspect of town management, but maybe she had been kept in the dark on purpose. Many of the town’s resources bled directly into the SDC, to an extent that had the crowd buzzing like a wasp’s nest. A few times, Weiss explained, Schnee had chosen to tap into the town’s funds for things that had nothing to do with the city. More than once, rather than cut into his own profits, he’d used his power as mayor to give small loans to the SDC.

“Like reopening that tunnel that caved in a few weeks back,” Weiss told them as an example. “While it normally would have meant a decrease in profit, he had no profit loss. He used _your _money-- the town’s money-- to loan to the SDC, without anyone else knowing, and pays it back when the money frees up somewhere else, as he sees fit. All interest-free.”

It would have been funny, under other circumstances, to see the way Schnee’s face turned from white to red to purple. He didn’t dare protest; Yang suspected he didn’t know how to. He wouldn’t have expected for his own daughter to turn against him, and he had no argument prepared.

“His plans for the wall are even worse,” Weiss went on. It was admirable, how she seemed to lose herself in her explanations; she never turned to look back at Schnee as she spoke. “A town this size can’t afford a wall that big, but his idea is to give the town a loan-- with interest, of course-- from the SDC. In the process, this will wipe out the SDC’s debt to the town, and gain a little profit for the company itself.

“But if we allow this, how far will it go? And where will it end?” She gestured at Yang again. “With Yang, you won’t have to worry about any of this. She has nothing to do with the SDC. All she wants is… well, actually, maybe I should give her a chance to tell you that herself.”

There was a smattering of excited chatter as Weiss scratched the back of her head awkwardly. She turned to Yang and gave her a nod. 

“Oh… yeah.” She pushed herself up, taking Weiss’s place as the other woman sat down. She raised her voice. “Yeah.”

“Yang for mayor!” This time, Yang recognized the voice as Sun’s. A small smile played at her lips.

“I know I ain’t really that much more than a cattle driver. Hell, I hardly feel like a sheriff some days,” she told the crowd, folding her arms. “But since comin’ here, there’ve been so many things I thought I should do. Basic stuff, y’know. Upholding the law. Protecting y’all from Grimm. Makin’ you feel safe. That’s what I signed up for. When it all comes down to it, I’m just a gunslinger. Shootin’ things is what I’m good at. But I thought, maybe here… I could do a little more than that. I could use my skills for good, y’know?

“But then I came here, and I couldn’t even uphold the law properly. I’d arrest someone for… I dunno. Gettin’ into a fight, or touchin’ someone the wrong way, or gettin’ drunk and causin’ a scene. I’d arrest ‘em, but come into work the next day and find they’d been let out, just for being friendly with the mayor. And how am I supposed to hold folks accountable to the same laws I’m s’posed to let others get away with?” Yang made herself slow down for breath. Her anger was beginning to trickle into her words, and she needed to keep a rein on it. 

“I’m just sayin’... that even if you don’t vote for me as mayor, I still wanna do the right thing by y’all. I want everyone to be treated fairly. No special treatment for anyone. We need to separate the town from the SDC. No more mixing money. This is a town, not an extension of a business, which is something everyone here needs to remember.”

There was a murmuring of agreement. Then, one voice called out, “What’re you gonna do about the White Fang?”

“What about the Faunus?” another asked.

Yang bit the inside of her cheek, turning to look back at Blake, who gave her an encouraging nod.

“I know a lot of y’all have been hurt by the actions of the White Fang,” she said somberly. “You’ve lost loved ones. Family, friends. They’ve destroyed your property. They scare you. I understand y’all’s anger, and I’m not here to tell y’ain’t allowed to feel that. But it’s important y’all understand the distinction between the White Fang and the Faunus out there among you right now.” She gestured an arm across the crowd. “These folks ain’t killers. They’re just miners. They’re just _people_. They came to Mantle and signed a contract with Schnee because they hope for a better future. Ain’t that the exact same reason most of y’all are here, too?”

Some people in the crowd shifted uneasily.

“All they wanna do is live, just like you. And they should be allowed to do so without threat of branding, or beatings, or lynchings. If y’all can just… I dunno, just _try _to set aside your prejudices long enough to prevent any of those things… then it ain’t gonna give ‘em a reason to go to the White Fang in the first place! Just by being fair, we can cut the White Fang off at its knees. I mean, that’s what happened with Blake.” Again, she turned to Blake, meeting her eyes levelly. The soft gold of her irises made Yang’s breath catch. “She left the White Fang because she came to see the _good _in some of the folks here. We shouldn’t be hangin’ her for that. We should be trying to get the White Fang to see what she sees! And we sure as hell can’t do that if we’re brandin’ faces.

“All I’m sayin’, is that if we can show the Faunus the same humanity y’all show each other… there won’t be a reason for the White Fang to attack us. That’s gotta be worth somethin’. Because if y’all would rather hold onto your hate, the White Fang _will _come back, and show you the _real _meaning of _an eye for an eye_.”

Yang glared pointedly down at some of the people who were so fond of that phrase, pleased when they looked away from her smoldering eyes.

“As your mayor… I can do my best to work out some peace. But I can’t do it alone. Y’all are gonna have to work with me, and with the Faunus. I can shoot all I want, but my bullets are gonna be wasted if somethin’ doesn’t give. But if y’all work with me… I can promise I’ll use every last one of my bullets fightin’ for you.”

For some reason, that was enough for a ripple of applause to run through the crowd. It wasn’t everyone. She wasn’t even sure it was the majority.

But it was something.

\--

The day was long. Schnee, of course, wanted a chance to rebut Weiss’s claims, though his arguments came out weak. The seeds of doubt had been sown, and Weiss’s position as heiress was enough to convince most people that her words had some merit. The glare he shot at his daughter throughout the meeting had Yang genuinely concerned for her safety, though Weiss carefully avoided his stare.

There were others, too, who were nominated for mayor. Social climbers who saw an opportunity, wealthy people who thought they deserved a shot. Each of them was given the time to speak, to dangle promises. But as the afternoon wore on, it was clear that the only serious contenders were Yang and Schnee. They were the ones that got the most applause, the most questions. They were the ones people knew: with Schnee, things would go on as they always had. But the people _trusted_ Yang. The election would come down to if that trust could outweigh the Schnee name.

It was decided that elections for city council would take place a few weeks later. It would give people time to consider and plan, to campaign, and to come to an unrushed decision. Until then, the elected mayor would maintain control of the city, though any major decisions would be put off until the council was formed. Yang was only glad it meant that, for now, there would be no speeches from city council-hopefuls. As the sun slid across the sky, her patience was wearing thin.

Another dilemma arose when a Faunus woman asked if they’d be able to vote in the election. This caused another half-hour of arguing and deliberation, moderated by Weiss as best as she could. Yang was in favor of allowing the Faunus to vote, openly throwing her support to the idea. After all, she reminded them, this was their town, too, and they deserved to have a say in the way it was run.

Yet Schnee turned that argument against her: if the Faunus were allowed to vote, she would be guaranteed the election. There were just so many of them, and of course they would vote for someone sympathetic to them. Furthermore, until someone changed the law, Faunus were not even allowed to vote. Bending the rules for the election would not only be illegal, but give Yang an unfair advantage. In the end, it was this technicality that would keep the Faunus from voting, something Yang seethed over when she sat back down.

“You’ll still have the votes,” Blake told her firmly. “After that, you can change this. But you’ve got their support. Even Schnee knows that, and it scares the shit out of him.”

Yang shot a quick glance in Schnee’s direction. The heat of the day was making him sweat, though he’d conjured up a small fan from somewhere, which he waved steadily in front of his face. He was probably longing to get back to his air-conditioned manor. 

It was well into the afternoon by the time Weiss finally stood, giving instructions on how the voting was to take place. Schnee caused a stir about his confidence in the people manning the ballot boxes and the people who would count the votes. Though they were all employees who had worked at the town hall, many of them hired by him directly, he was still suspicious, questioning their honesty in a way that had many of the workers scowling.

Yang clenched her jaw at his delaying tactics. It was ugly. She’d never seen a man so close to throwing a tantrum, but Schnee was quivering with rage at various times throughout the afternoon. He looked ready to pop.

She nearly cried with relief when Weiss dismissed the crowd. The town would have until sunset to cast their votes, which meant that the counters would hopefully have the results the next day. Yang was ready to bet that if the outcome wasn’t favorable to Schnee, he would insist on a recount. Just thinking about it was exhausting, but at least the meeting was over. Those were worries for another day.

She thumbed Blake’s hand as they walked down the steps together, and Yang was so caught up in her own thoughts that she was caught off-guard when Blake suddenly halted.

“What--?” Yang began, but looked back up at the scaffold, just in time to see Schnee step in front of Weiss. He seized her wrist, gripping it tightly.

“You didn’t come home last night,” he said coolly.

“I had business to take care of,” she replied, trying to pull her hand away. He didn’t let go.

“I expect you to return home tonight.”

“The hell are you doing, Jacques?” Yang’s eyes tinged red as she stared up at him, muscles tensing and ready to spring if he refused to let go.

But he did, releasing Weiss’s wrist, looking almost surprised that he’d been called out. “This is none of your concern, Yang,” he snapped.

“If I hear you’ve laid a finger on her--”

“Yang, enough,” Weiss said uncomfortably, shifting away from her father. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. Yang still had half a mind to storm up there, to remind Schnee that touching people like that wasn’t right, but Weiss’s eyes hardened and she shook her head. Against her better judgement, Yang forced herself to relax. Weiss wouldn’t thank her for interfering when she’d told her not to, and she needed to keep Weiss on her side. If she was going to be mayor, she’d need all the help she could get.

“Walk with us to the voting booths,” Blake called up unexpectedly. Schnee didn’t waste his manners on her, offering up a full glare as Weiss skirted around him. Blake glared back, finally able to give into her hatred.

“Tonight, Weiss,” Schnee hissed after her. “Or don’t come back at all.”

Weiss was a little paler than usual when she made it down the steps, but Yang clapped her shoulder in what she hoped was a reassuring way. “You gonna be okay, Weiss?”

“Eventually,” Weiss said dully, carefully keeping her gaze trained forward and away from her father. “He’ll get over it. We’ll talk it over tonight, and he’ll calm down. He’ll understand that it’ll be in his best interest to step down.” Still, there was a quaver of uncertainty in her voice, but she plowed ahead, dismissing her worries. “Let’s go vote.”

Plenty of people stopped them on their way to the booth, offering their support. Nora pounced on them, throwing her arms around all three of them.

“We’re votin’ for you for sure, Yang!” she exclaimed. “And so’s most of the folks who were at the saloon last night. You shoulda heard ‘em, talkin’ up a storm about the mess this town’s become. You’re definitely gonna win the election.”

But for all of Nora’s certainty, there were still plenty of dirty looks shot in Yang and Blake’s direction. When Blake noticed them, her ears flattened, but she stared right back. It was enough to make people like Cardin Winchester look away, but to others, it only fueled their distaste. When Yang caught Eclectus’s stare, his lip curled in disgust. He spat in their direction before turning on his heel.

“Maybe this won’t be as cut and dry as we hoped,” Yang said quietly. 

“Don’t think like that,” Blake replied shortly. “For some people, even a little bit of weakness will be enough to sway them over to Schnee’s side.” She gave Yang a small smile. “Show ‘em that gunslinger confidence. Show ‘em that swagger.”

It was enough to make Yang smile. She threaded her arm through Blake’s, and they moved on without paying attention to the stares.

Pyrrha joined them in the voting line, darting over to them with her skirts in her hand. “Y’all did so well!” she gushed. But it was Weiss she threw her arms around, pulling her in for an embrace. “And _you_. I knew you’d do well, sweetheart.”

“I…” Weiss stammered, but she was at a loss for words. Slowly, her arms came up, wrapping around Pyrrha with a reluctance that made Yang wonder if she was afraid she would be pushed away. How many times had Weiss been on the receiving end of a hug?

“All I’m saying is that he brings us financial security!” someone was yelling in another line. Annoyed, Yang looked over. The well-dressed woman was trying to gain an audience, waving her arms around dramatically. “Why should it matter if we give him a loan from time to time? Both sides benefit from the relationship. It’s like… oh, what’s the word…”

“Symbiotic, dear,” the taller man beside her filled in, patting her arm. “And you’re quite right. If the town scratches the SDC’s back, you know the SDC will scratch the town’s right back! Everyone wins.”

“But what about the loan? He didn’t even ask us.” Yang recognized the doubtful voice as Penny Polendina. The concern on the pianist’s face was such an unnatural look for someone so easygoing.

“He’s our _mayor_. We need to show a little faith in him,” the first woman replied dismissively.

“And blind trust like that is gonna get us all in trouble,” Yang yelled in their direction, unable to hold her silence. Penny looked over, startled, while the couple only gazed haughtily at Yang.

“You’re a good sheriff, Yang,” the man said, his tone almost patronizing, “but your judgement has been proven to be somewhat… skewed.” He gave Blake a pointed look. Yang’s fists clenched.

“Say that again,” she hissed, stepping forward.

“Yang,” Blake said warningly. “Not today.”

But the man seemed to know that he’d struck a nerve. He smirked. “Listen to your pet, Yang,” he goaded. “Since that seems to be all you know how to do.”

Yang made to charge ahead, but Blake had grabbed her by the vest. “He’s trying to get you to do something stupid,” she whispered. “Don’t do it. Not today.”

She made herself take a deep breath, and turned away. She should have expected people to bait her. Anything to make her lose credibility.

“We’re surprised at _you_, though, Weiss,” the woman continued, shaking her head in disapproval. “After everything your father’s done for you--”

Weiss was not so easily baited. Her icy expression never faltered. “I could ask you the same thing to you, Cecily,” she replied simply. “About your ex-husband… but then again, that was none of my business, was it? Just as this is none of yours.”

Yang started to laugh, but managed to cover it with a cough. The woman-- Cecily-- looked like she’d swallowed a bug, while the man beside her turned beet-red. It was glorious, and felt almost as good as punching him might have.

When Cecily and her man turned away, Penny looked brightly up at Yang. She gave her a thumbs-up.

But it didn’t stop the whispers. Silencing one person made little difference, in the end, when there were others prepared to take their place. Yang could only endure it as the line trudged on at a snail’s pace. She was relieved that, although Blake couldn’t vote, she stayed at Yang’s side, stroking her back or her arm or simply giving her a reassuring smile. It was enough to soothe Yang’s rumbling temper, the fury that came back in waves whenever someone looked at them the wrong way.

Judgement. This was something Blake had known since she was born. How had she been able to stomach it for so many years?

The act of voting was anticlimactic. Yang was handed a ballot before going into her booth. All she had to do was check her name off and deposit it into a small slot that emptied into a box on the other side. As the boxes filled, the people manning the booths would take them away to a private location where counting could begin. It was more of a hassle than the voting machines the larger cities used, but it was the most secure voting system they could come up with on such short notice.

When she emerged from her booth, Blake rewarded Yang with a small peck on the lips. Somewhere in the crowd, someone made a gagging noise, but Yang made herself ignore it. There was nothing she could do, and she had to accept it.

“Now what?” she asked. Uncertainly, she looked down the long lines. They didn’t seem to be shrinking as people voted. “Should I, like… make speeches or something? Go down the line and shake hands?”

That was what Schnee was doing, after all. He was making his way down one of the lines, all smiles and jokes, his sour mood locked away in order to schmooze.

“I’m… not sure,” Blake admitted. “Maybe you should try to--”

Down the street, a horse neighed loudly. Not an unusual sound, especially with so many people in town who’d traveled from the outlying ranches surrounding Mantle. Absently, Yang looked down the street, then froze.

A woman was perched atop a tall red horse, one hand on the crown of her battered hat like she was holding it down. She surveyed the crowd from underneath its rim, hiding her eyes. She looked out of place in a woven red poncho, a rose-shaped brooch pinned at her shoulder. Behind her, two more horses were tethered to her own, and one of them shifted nervously. But the woman gave them no mind, only continuing to scan the crowd.

And then Yang was running toward her, sprinting. Behind her, she heard the footsteps of Blake running after her, but Yang couldn’t slow down, too caught up in her own excitement.

“Is this a bad time?” she heard the woman ask a passing kid. Before the kid could reply, she looked up, silver eyes glinting as she caught sight of Yang and Blake running toward her. “Yang? Is that you?”

“Ruby!” Yang called, waving an arm. With a toothy grin, Ruby hopped off her horse, bouncing toward Yang the minute her booted feet hit the ground. Yang laughed, squeezing her sister into a tight hug. At her sister’s pleased giggle, Yang could almost forget about her own irritation that the day had brought. She released her, giving Ruby a once-over. Despite the months apart, she hadn’t changed a bit. “Shit, I didn’t think you’d be here for another week!”

“Dad was tryin’ to put me to work at the ranch, so I left a little early,” Ruby replied with a heavy sigh. “He’s been trying to cheap his way outta gettin’ another ranch hand, now that Uncle Qrow is drivin’ again, and I think he was tryin’ to convince me to stick around. But I _told _him that I was gonna come to Mantle, and he-- oh! You must be Blake! Hi!”

Blake was still trying to catch her breath, her eyes wide and flickering back and forth from Yang to Ruby. She straightened herself up, raising a disbelieving eyebrow at Yang.

“You ran so fast, I thought it was an emergency,” she accused. Yang chuckled sheepishly.

“Well, I _am_ an emergency,” Ruby replied seriously, patting her horse’s shoulder. “It’s been _months_!”

“I mean, I thought it was--” Blake sighed, then offered a weak smile. “Never mind. So, you’re the famous sister.”

“Ruby Rose!” Ruby announced cheerfully, sticking a hand, which Blake shook politely. “Cattle-driver extraordinaire, and sister to the infamous gunslinger!”

“Who’re you callin’ _infamous_?” Yang growled, slinging an around Ruby’s neck. Ruby whined, shoving Yang off of her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ruby,” Blake said, her smile blooming more fully. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Which concerns me a little bit,” Ruby replied, narrowing her eyes at Yang. “Just _what _have you been tellin’ her? And what happened to your _neck_?” She pointed at Blake’s neck, looking slightly horrified. She rounded on her sister. “What did you do to her?!”

“It-- it wasn’t--” Yang stammered, heat rising in her cheeks. Blake couldn’t hold back a small laugh.

“It’s… sorta why all of this is happening,” she explained, gesturing to the crowd and the queues. “Things have been a little crazy over the past few days.”

“I see…” Ruby said, eyes narrowing. “You’ll have to explain. ‘Cause I don’t get it. Maybe as we settle the horses in? They’re pretty beat. And so am I!”

“_There_ you are!”

The three of them turned at Weiss’s approach, and Yang gave her a sheepish smile. “Oh, shit, didn’t mean to ditch you, Weiss.”

“Weiss Schnee…” Ruby said thoughtfully. In a lower voice, she asked Yang, “Are y’all friends now or something?”

“Yes,” Blake replied firmly, before Yang had a chance to respond. “We are.”

Weiss, who hadn’t heard Ruby’s question, looked from Blake, to Yang, to Ruby with a frown. “Ruby Rose?” she asked uncertainly.

“That’s me!” It was surreal, how quickly Ruby could slip into an easy grin. “I don’t think we met when I was here last time, helpin’ Yang move in.”

“We didn’t.”

“Well, I’m glad we get to now!” She stuck a hand out, its rough calluses at odds with the softness of Weiss’s hand. They shook anyway, Ruby’s hand bouncing more than etiquette would have called for. But Weiss didn’t criticize, only giving Ruby a nod.

“I believe you’ve worked with my sister?” she asked politely.

“Winter? Yeah, but she’s based outta Vale now. Ironwood gave her a promotion, so she does more administrative stuff these days. I don’t know how she stands it.”

“She’s always been quite disciplined,” Weiss remarked, a fond sort of smile finally spreading across her face. She was quite pretty when she smiled, and Yang felt a pang of regret that it seemed to be such a foreign expression on her face. “I’m glad to hear she’s doing so well.”

It ran deeper, Yang knew. It had to. She’d seen the photograph in its frame, set casually on one of Weiss’s bookshelves. It was the only photograph Weiss kept in her office. Weiss and Winter in their youth, wearing elegant dresses and posed so carefully. Neither of them had smiled in the picture, but Weiss _did _smile on the rare occasions she spoke of her sister.

Winter had never spoken of Weiss, or any other of her family, on the occasional cattle drive Yang had done with her. On their first drive together, Yang hadn’t even realized that she was a Schnee. Only when they’d gotten the cattle up to Vale and met up with Ironwood that Yang had learned her last name. It was a taboo topic for Winter, and both Ruby and Yang had learned never to question it.

“From what I hear, she misses goin’ out on the range, but she seems happy enough!” Ruby went on, nodding. “And Ironwood trusts her a great deal, so he…”

Yang tuned out the conversation, easing over to the two tethered horses. Petal was one of the two horses that accompanied Ruby on drives, and Yang gave her an absent pat. It was the other horse that had her attention, and she brightened with a smile as she reached a palm out to her nose. The horse gave a small snort.

“So this is your other horse?” Blake asked quietly, looking up at the pinto mare.

“Yeah,” Yang replied, pulling her hand back. “I left her with dad when I came here. I didn’t want to bring her out till I was all settled in here, and then Ruby ended up on another drive and didn’t get a chance to bring her before she left. Her name’s Ribbon.”

“Ribbon,” Blake repeated thoughtfully. “She’s beautiful.”

“And yours.”

“Pardon?”

Yang grinned down at Blake. “I don’t ride half as much as I used to, and when I do, Bumblebee’s enough. And you need a horse.”

“Yang, this is too much,” Blake protested, eyes going wide. “She’s… she’s too _good_.”

“And so are you.” Yang stepped in front of Blake, trailing a hand around her waist. “I still don’t know how I got so lucky. To have someone like you in my life. And… this is the least I could do. Especially after yesterday.”

“Yang…”

“Blake,” Yang said softly. “You’re everything to me. You’ve… done so much for me. I can’t… I can’t even remember what life was like before you came ‘round.” She gave her a lopsided smile. “I didn’t think I could really trust myself, with anyone else. But you make me… I dunno. I’m _better_, knowing you. And I don’t think there’s anyone I could trust more with Ribbon.”

“But… you…” Blake glanced back up at the mare, looking so pure in her astonishment. “She’s _yours_.”

“And I already said that Bumblebee is enough for me.” Yang leaned close, her lips a breath away from Blake’s. “So take her. _Please_.”

The draw of Yang’s lips seemed to be too much for Blake to resist any longer. Her arms circled Yang’s back, pulling her in to kiss. The ensuing rush of love was enough to make Yang forget about her frustration of the day, her anger with Schnee, her fear for the future. All that mattered was Blake, warm under her hands, soft against her mouth. The rest of the world could have been an illusion compared to this. 

This was love, she thought wonderingly. It was real, and it was perfect.

The four of them walked together back to Yang’s house, Ruby leading the horses. She seemed to be happy enough just to walk again instead of ride, stretching her long legs out as they walked along. She kept sneaking glances over at Yang and Blake, who walked arm-in-arm behind her. It made Yang roll her eyes, and Blake chuckle.

Sun was waiting for them in the stable, and Ruby happily passed her own horses onto him. “I feel like I could sleep for days!” she groaned, rolling her head. Her neck cracked, and Weiss visibly winced.

“Actually, if you don’t mind… I’d like to take care of Ribbon,” Blake said, flushing slightly. “So I can get to know her a little.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Yang replied, smiling as she pulled her hat off. “And maybe tomorrow, we can go ridin’, so you can get a feel for her. She’s got some spunk, but she’s real smooth.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Blake practically glowed as she led Ribbon the the stall adjacent Bumblebee. Ribbon snorted at her old friend, and Bumblebee looked over the stall curiously.

“Riding? Can I come?” Ruby asked excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Haven’t you _been_ riding?” Yang teased.

“Yeah, but not with you!” She paused, her dark brows furrowing with a sudden thought. “I mean, unless it’s a romantic thing. In which case, I want nothin’ to do with it.”

Yang snorted and threw her arms around Ruby in another tight hug. “I’ve missed you, sis.”

After settling Ruby into her room, Yang returned to the stable, curious to see how Blake faired with Ribbon. Sun was chattering away happily as he worked on Petal, and Blake nodded her occasional agreement to whatever he was saying. Smiling slightly, Yang leaned against the doorframe, content to watch.

She’d known Blake was comfortable enough with horses; she doted on Bumblebee, and had known how to tack a horse without any guidance. But now, Blake looked completely and utterly at peace as she ran a comb over Ribbon’s coat. She almost seemed entranced by the dainty pinto, lost in the movements of the comb.

It was a few minutes before Blake looked up and noticed Yang. She blushed, a faint little smile twitching onto her lips. “Can I help you?” she asked, amused.

“Yeah.” Yang pushed herself off the doorframe. She moved toward Blake slowly, the dirt crunching beneath her boots. “In a lotta ways.”

Blake’s eyes flickered over to Sun, whose tail twitched. He looked up from Petal, cheeks darkening. “Uh…”

“Like in helpin’ me out with Ruby,” Yang finished, smirking. “Don’t be gross, Sun.”

“Why d’you do this to me?” he complained, turning back to the horse and shaking his head. “The things I have to suffer through…”

Yang snorted with laughter. Blake set the comb down and gave Ribbon a final pat, then slid out of the stall. She accepted a chaste kiss from Yang.

“So Ruby’s unpacking?”

“Yep. She’s gonna stay at least a few months, though she’s still on the fence of whether or not she actually wants to move here for good. Ironwood won’t want to give her up.” Yang stretched an arm around Blake, then offered Sun a salute. “Thanks, Sun!”

“Good luck with the election!” he replied with a jaunty wave. Petal turned her head and huffed at him for the disturbance, and Yang laughed.

“And I guess a lot of that will have to do with the election, right?” Blake asked in a lower voice as they walked back to the house. “If she stays?”

“Yeah, she definitely won’t stay if I’m not even here.” Yang swallowed, trying not to think about the possibility of what would happen if they lost. They’d have to leave quickly, before Schnee could order both their arrests. Blake threaded her fingers through Yang’s tightly. 

“Everything will be all right,” she murmured, sensing Yang’s worry. “Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

It was a good thought, but Yang’s confidence continued to ebb as the rest of the afternoon carried on. Ruby was a helpful distraction, pulling out little gifts from her bags to give to Yang and Blake.

“Have you tried this stuff before?” Ruby asked, pulling out a small jar of the bruise balm. “Weiss told me what happened yesterday. It might feel good on your neck, Blake.”

Both Yang and Blake burst out laughing. Ruby looked so completely affronted that Yang had to fight through her laughter to reassure her, “I bought some in Argus a few months back, after you told me how good it was. We’ve been usin’ it religiously.”

“Oh.” Ruby visibly relaxed, setting the jar on the table. “Well, now you’ve got more.”

“I’ve never even heard of the stuff,” Weiss said suspiciously, picking it up to examine the label. “What’s in it?”

“I dunno,” Ruby replied, shrugging. “But it’s the best. I get it from this lady in Argus who makes all sorts of natural cures and remedies. She’s like, a hundred years old and knows _everything _about healing.”

“I see…” Eyes narrowed, Weiss unscrewed the cap and touched the salve. She rubbed it between her fingers, unconvinced. “Well, it _smells_ good, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It works,” Yang said firmly. “Believe me, we’ve all put it to good use.” She hesitated. “Since we’ve still got plenty, you can borrow it, if you’d like. See if it works on with your headaches, or something.”

“Right…” Weiss screwed the cap back on, then nodded slowly. “Can’t hurt to try.”

“What headaches?” Ruby asked, ever curious.

“None of your concern.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow as Weiss stood, taking the jar in hand and sighing. “I should probably get back to the house,” she said regretfully. “Father and I are going to have to talk about today, and that’s not going to be pleasant.”

“Are you gonna be okay?” Yang asked, all good humor lost to concern. Blake’s eyes darted up to Weiss anxiously. “He won’t put you under house arrest, will he?”

“House arrest?” Ruby asked, startled. “Why would he do that?”

“He won’t,” Weiss replied quickly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Weiss,” Blake said, sitting up straighter. “If he does anything…”

“I said I’ll be fine,” Weiss snapped, then drew in a deep breath, shoulders relaxing as she released it. “Look. I know my father isn’t the easiest man, but I know how to deal with him. He’s not going to be happy about what happened today, but he’ll get over it. He always does.”

Maybe, if Yang hadn’t known Schnee so well, she would have believed Weiss’s bald-faced lie. Ruby seemed to, for she breathed a sigh of relief. Blake shot Yang a worried glance. She wasn’t falling for it, either.

“Well… if you need anything… send a note with Klein, or somethin',” Yang told her, trying to lighten her tone. “And maybe tomorrow, if the election goes well, we can all go out for drinks or somethin’.”

“Right.” Weiss nodded. Her expression was carefully masked, as carefully blank as it had been when Yang had first moved to Mantle. It saddened her. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

A somber mood descended after Weiss’s departure, though Ruby continued to pull things out of her bags, seemingly oblivious to Yang and Blake’s worry.

“I got some of these when I stopped in Atlas!” Ruby said brightly, pulling out a small box of ammo. Yang rolled her eyes.

“I’ve got plenty of ammo.” She paused. “At least, Schnee always provided it. Not sure he will anymore, but I’ve still got plenty.”

“This is different,” Ruby explained, nodding at the box. “That’s a new kind of Dust. They only just found it in the mines in Vacuo, and it was expensive as hell.”

“New Dust?” Yang asked, surprised. “How new? I’m sure I would’ve heard about it…”

“Gravity Dust!” Ruby opened the box, pulling out a single bullet. “I’m not quite sure what it’ll mean for shootin’, so it’s prob’ly not very practical, but it could be fun for your demonstrations, or just experimentin’.”

“New Dust…” Yang repeated thoughtfully, pulling a bullet out for herself. In its shell, it looked no different from a normal bullet. Already, she was itching to try them out, to see what they’d do to her targets. Then she frowned. “I wonder why Schnee hasn’t told us about it. Or Weiss.”

“How would I know?” Ruby asked primly, resting her chin in her hands as Yang passed the bullet for Blake’s inspection. “But nobody was sellin’ ‘em in Argus, yet. Just Atlas.”

“And it might not be mined through the SDC,” Blake pointed out, rolling the bullet in her fingers. “They don’t have as many properties in Vacuo. Most of their mines are in the Solitas Desert, and a few in the mountains of Anima.”

“I guess that makes more sense,” Yang remarked slowly, taking the bullet back from Blake and replacing it in the box. “Well, maybe we can try ‘em out tomorrow.” She paused, then added, “If we’re not gettin’ run outta town.”

\--

To take the edge off their nerves, the three of them spent the evening at Crocea Mors. Though Saturday nights were usually busy, the saloon was even more packed with excited people. Many of them clambered up to Yang, eager to express their support and reassure her that they’d voted for her. It was strange, having so many people waiting to shake her hand or pat her on the back. Before, she’d practically been a celebrity with her gunslinging, but this was a level of attention she wasn’t used to.

If it wasn’t for Ruby, Yang might have turned around and left. Fortunately, enough people had heard tales about the gunslinger’s little sister that Ruby was able to distract some of the crowd away from Yang. A small knot of people surrounded Ruby’s barstool, listening with wide eyes as she told her own version of the stories that Yang had often told.

“You wouldn’t think Grimm would eat _cattle_, but they totally ripped this poor cow apart!” she exclaimed, miming a violent gesture that made Yang grimace. “So I jumped in with my scythe, and Yang popped ‘em off, one after the other, and--”

“A scythe? I’ve never heard of anyone fighting with a scythe before,” Penny commented, but she was enraptured by Ruby’s tale, her green eyes alight.

“Well, I made it myself. It’s collapsible and everything, fits right on my back. I mean, I know how to shoot, but I ain’t as good as Yang. But it comes in handy, when you need more than just a bullet to take down a giant Grimm. Because these Ursai were _enormous_! Like, basically the size of this room.” Ruby spread her arms as wide as she could, nearly slapping Jaune in the face. 

“I’m pretty sure that wasn’t how it went down,” Yang muttered into Blake’s ear. She saw goosebumps run down her bruised neck, and Blake giggled.

“Like you don’t exaggerate just as much.”

“I _never_ exaggerate!”

“Uh-huh…” Blake’s eyes twinkled. “Right.”

Ruby’s voice faded into distance as Yang began to wonder how the counting was going. The workers would count late into the night, hopefully coming up with the results by morning. She took a sip of beer, hoping it would quell the butterflies in her stomach. She’d never been nervous until this year, she thought uncomfortably. First during her flirtation with Blake, and now on the eve of learning the fate of the town.

“If you don’t quit tappin’ your fingers like that, I’m gonna break ‘em,” Nora warned her, somewhere around Yang’s third mug. She hadn’t even noticed she’d been drumming her fingers on the bar. With a sheepish smile, she pulled her hand away. With a small smile of her own, Blake took Yang’s hand, her thumb stroking it comfortingly.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Nora sighed dramatically. “It’s gotta be nerve-wracking, knowing that losin’ could mean the arrest of yourself and your loved ones…”

“Nora!” Pyrrha looked appalled as she stepped closer to Blake and Yang. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“I’m _sym-pa-thi-zing_!” she shot back, emphasizing each syllable. “It’s in the job description!”

“And that kind of sympathizin’ is just why nobody _tells_ you their problems,” Pyrrha replied with a sigh. She gave Nora a playful shove before focusing back on Blake and Yang. “How’s Weiss holdin’ up?”

“I’m not sure. She went home a few hours ago,” Yang replied, raising and lowering one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “We’ll check on her tomorrow, though. Make sure she’s all right.”

“She’s tough,” Blake said, taking a sip of her own beer. “Tougher than she gives herself credit for.”

“Yeah…” Pyrrha stared vacantly into space for a moment, then shook her head, her red ponytail bouncing.

“You like her,” Yang commented, lips quirking. Pyrrha chuckled, though her cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink.

“Maybe I do.”

“She really could use someone nice in her life,” Blake added thoughtfully. “I don’t think she gets a lot of that.”

“I asked her a little about her family last night,” Pyrrha replied, looking troubled. “None of them are close, and she didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t ask further.”

“Sounds like Weiss.” Yang stared into her mug, remembering the wistful way she’d asked, _That’s what friends do, right?_

“I don’t think she’d ever stayed the night with someone before, either,” Pyrrha remarked, almost to herself. Yang’s eyebrows shot up, but Pyrrha laughed and shook her head. “No, not like that. I mean, like… just staying with someone for the night. Like sleeping over. She seemed so lost.”

“Oh.” Yang hadn’t realized she’d been lucky, to have friends spend nights on the ranch, or to have Ruby climb into her bed to keep her warm at night. Weiss had only known loneliness. She’d only known cold. “That’s… sad.”

“So we can make it right,” Blake said softly, looking from Yang to Pyrrha. “Right?”

“Right!” they said at the same time.

“...so Yang shot its belly, and then I swooped in and lopped off its head with my scythe!” Ruby crowd, swinging her arm down in a slicing motion. “And _bam_! The cattle were safe again.”

“I’m gonna need another beer,” Yang muttered.

\--

“Yang?” Blake said softly.

With a groan, Yang pushed herself up in bed. They’d gone to bed together, but now Blake was standing in the doorway of their bedroom, eyes molten gold in the moonlight. Yang blinked, then looked out the window. It was still dark. 

“What’sit?” she asked groggily, rubbing at her eyes. Blake couldn’t have been up for long; she was still in her nightshirt, and even half-asleep, Yang was hypnotized by her long legs and the tempting skin there. She yawned, tearing her eyes away to look back up at her face.

“That was Jaune at the door,” she said, closing the door behind her and plodding in, the sound of bare feet on wood oddly ominous. Yang hadn’t even heard anyone knocking. “They finished the count.”

A stone dropped into her stomach, heavy with fear and uncertainty. Her eyes went wide. “And?”

Blake slunk back into bed, her whole body pressing into Yang’s side, one arm slipping across her abdomen, hand settling on her waist. She smiled darkly, thumbing the tight muscles of Yang’s stomach.

“We did it,” she breathed, her lips leaving a kiss behind on Yang’s jaw, “Mayor Xiao Long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never? I don't think I've written a chapter quite like this before, and so it was a little rough, but I hope it came out okay! I'm aiming to get back on schedule for this Friday! If not, I'll make a note about it on my twitter and tumblr!
> 
> Shoutout to Aziminil and Sara for looking it over and listening to me whining about the chapter!


	9. Act II -- Mayor, Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ### Act II -- Mayor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: descriptions of abuse

There was no way Yang could get back to sleep. She was _mayor_. Her heart began to pound, though Yang couldn’t tell if it was from nervousness or excitement or something else she couldn’t identify. Even though Blake tried to ease her back into bed, Yang was too jittery to sleep. Instead, she bounced up, mind already whirring.

“Am I gonna have to write an acceptance speech or something?” she asked, pacing. “I don’t know what people usually say for those things… should I just wing it?”

“You should come back to bed,” Blake told her, patting the bed irritably.

“But there’s so much I have to think about!” she protested, running a hand through her hair. It was knotted from sleep, and she worked her fingers through it anxiously. “Schnee’s prob’ly gonna want a recount, so I’ve got time to come up with something at least. And maybe Weiss can-- _Weiss_.” Yang paled. “Maybe I should go check on her--”

“Jaune said Pyrrha was doing that already,” Blake told her firmly, patting the bed again. “And we can check in on her in the morning, too.”

“Right…” Yang stared out the window, frowning. It was still dark out, the night punctuated by the occasional light from Dust-powered streetlamps. It seemed so peaceful outside, but by morning, she knew there would be a lot of chaos to deal with. As mayor, she would be responsible for the entire town. It would be so much more than dealing with lawbreakers and Grimm. She felt the burden sink onto her shoulders, enveloping her like a shroud.

“Baby,” Blake called softly. “You need to sleep if you wanna be prepared for tomorrow.”

“I…” Yang’s frown deepened. “D’you… still know how to get in touch with the Fang?”

“I may. Why?”

“I wanna get that message out to the leader sooner rather than later,” Yang explained, the ghost of a plan forming in her mind. “You said her name is Sienna, right? If I can get her to see that I want to work with the Faunus… maybe she’d even be willing to work with me…”

“Maybe,” Blake murmured. Apparently realizing that Yang wasn’t returning to bed, she rose, joining her at the window. She slipped her arms around Yang’s waist, burying her face in her back. Absently, Yang slid her hands on top of Blake’s.

“If she has input, this could be a way of makin' some peace.” Yang continued to stare out the window. “But they gotta know right away that the leader’s changed. Maybe she can call off Adam, and maybe we can make things right.”

Blake said nothing, but when she kissed the base of Yang's neck, she felt goosebumps prick. It was comforting, and Yang finally closed her eyes to accept the touch. There was no way the folks in town would like treating with the White Fang. That part would have to be kept under wraps, and the thought of secrecy made her stomach feel sour. She was grateful for Blake’s reassuring touch.

“I’ll try to make it so the Faunus can vote for the city council,” she went on, only slightly distracted when Blake’s hands began to roam across her stomach. “We need Faunus voices on it, or else this’ll all be useless. Maybe you could be on the board, baby.”

“I’m sure people would kick up a fuss about that, since we live together.”

“But you’d have… a lot of good ideas,” Yang said, determined to stay focused on her planning and cling to her worries, even as Blake’s fingertips trailed along the curve of her waist. “You know the kinds of things the Faunus need. Things that I might overlook.”

“Then we can talk about it together, and you can bring it to the discussion,” Blake replied firmly, toying with the hem of Yang’s nightshirt. “I haven’t really been a part of the Faunus community here. I probably wouldn’t be the best representative.”

“Oh… I guess that’s a fair point.” Yang frowned, then finally turned around. The way Blake was touching her was too distracting, and her gaze softened as she looked down at her. With Blake, she didn’t have to hide behind her bravado. She could let her uncertainty peek through. “I just… don’t even know where to begin. There’s so much to do, and think about, and I just… I dunno.” She shook her head, then, in a lower voice, said, “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

“Oh, my love,” Blake murmured, fingers grazing Yang’s jaw. “You’re going to do so well.”

“Am I?”

“_Yes_,” Blake breathed. She pulled Yang’s chin to her, kissing her lightly, but before Yang could return it properly, she pulled away. “But worrying about all of this right now isn’t going to help anything. Tomorrow is gonna be stressful enough as-is, and you need to be rested and ready for whatever Schnee throws at us. You’re right, he probably _will _try for a recount. He’s gonna fight this, and if you want to stand a chance against him, you need to get some sleep.”

“I don’t… know if I can,” Yang told her, worrying her lower lip. “There’s so much to think about…”

“Let me help you, then,” Blake said, smiling, rolling the hem of Yang’s nightshirt between her fingers. “Because I have a few ideas of what might make it easier to sleep.”

“You… you don’t have to do that,” she protested weakly, her legs already beginning to open in anticipation. Blake’s fingers were soft as they slipped beneath the nightshirt.

“Yang.” Blake’s hand came to a stop, palm resting gently against her inner thigh. “Let me do this for you.” She paused. “Let me help you.”

And that was one way to do it, Yang supposed. There was no room left in her mind for worry or fear when Blake worked her fingers the way she did. Yang sighed, head falling back onto the pillow as Blake climbed over her, smiling softly.

“Oh, Blake… _fuck_,” she grunted, clenching around her fingers, looking wildly into Blake’s eyes. There was something so tender written there, so adoring. “Kiss me,” she pleaded.

Blake obliged, not even pulling back when Yang began to moan around her tongue, or even as she crested. Yang’s moans devolved to whimpers as Blake pushed through the orgasm and into a second, a third, until she was writhing beneath Blake’s body, a sheen of sweat on her skin.

It took a moment for her to realize that Blake had pulled out of her. Yang sprawled across the mattress, gasping, blinking to focus on Blake’s face. She could only stare as Blake tasted her on her fingers, sucking them in a way that nearly made Yang collapse in on herself. Though, she felt she was already doing that, melting bonelessly into the bed, breath coming back into her lungs in deep pants.

“Was that enough?” Blake asked, unable to keep the hint of amusement from her voice. 

“I…” Yang tried to say, but she couldn’t even _think_, let alone talk. She sucked in a breath. “That… was more than enough.” She closed her eyes, feeling Blake’s warmth as she settled beside her and pulled the blanket over them. The night was cool against her sweaty skin.

“Good,” Blake murmured, cuddling up to her. She nuzzled her face into the crook of Yang’s neck and slunk her arms around her. Yang’s own hands went lower, determined to reciprocate at least some of what had been done for her, but Blake caught her wrist. “Not tonight. Sleep.”

“But--”

“No.” Blake pulled her face away in order to look up at Yang. Her eyes shone with moonlight. “You need to sleep, babe.”

Yang bit her lip, but those eyes held no room for argument. “You’re too good for me,” she mumbled, and Blake laughed out loud at that.

“You gave me a _horse_,” she pointed out, but her tone softened. “I love you, Yang. And tomorrow is gonna be long. I just want you to be rested, and healthy, and… I just want you to feel good.” She smiled crookedly. “Because that’s what you do for me, every second of every day.” 

Something tugged in Yang’s heart, filling her up. She kissed Blake gently, sucking her lower lip and tightening her hold on her waist. It wasn’t just sex that filled her with such warmth, coursing through her veins in a hot current. It was so much more than that, and the warmth of that love was enough to make her high, make her cry, make her soar. There could be no better feeling in the world than Blake’s lips against her own, their souls one, full of each other.

“I always thought… I’d gotten what I deserved,” Blake added when they broke apart, an odd quiver in her voice. “I told myself that everything that happened with the Fang-- with Adam-- was what was right. Even when it didn’t feel right. Even when he… did the things he did.” Just at the remembrance, Blake stiffened in Yang’s arms, and Yang rubbed along her body soothingly. “I just… I thought it was right.”

“Blake,” Yang murmured.

“But it’s _not_,” she replied, looking startled at her own firmness. “_This_ is right. I… I didn’t know what it meant for something to be _right_, but being with you, here and now…”

Yang leaned in, capturing her lips on her own again. She could taste the meaning there, feel it in the hot breath on her mouth. No words could have done it justice.

\--

Of course, Schnee demanded a recount.

Yang rolled her eyes hard, but she wasn’t surprised by the demand. Though her winning margin wasn’t as wide as they might have hoped, it was large enough that Schnee couldn’t come out ahead without it looking suspicious. Even so, he insisted on appointing a couple of his own men as counters. Still, it wouldn’t change anything.

“He’s just trying to delay the inevitable,” Ren told them as they sat down for a late lunch. With the town hall burned, Crocea Mors was practically becoming Yang’s new headquarters. After the noontime rush, it was quiet enough for everyone to talk. Jaune, Nora, Pyrrha, and Ren gathered around the table with Yang, Blake, and Ruby to catch a quick lunch.

“Would he really try to cheat?” Ruby asked, mouth still half-full of a biscuit. 

“First off, we’re not on the range anymore. You gotta have _some_ manners now that you’re back in society, so swallow before talkin',” Yang told her sister sternly. An embarrassed pink tint bloomed in Ruby’s cheeks. “And second, I wouldn’t put it past him to try. But he’d really have to fuck the numbers hard to come out ahead. The real counters will keep his people in check.”

Ruby swallowed, then nodded. “Well, he sounds awful.”

“He is,” Pyrrha said unexpectedly from the far end of the table. It was the first sentence she’d said all afternoon beyond a token greeting. Her usually placid expression was marred by a scowl. Ren and Nora exchanged a worried look.

Yang’s stomach dropped a little. She hadn’t asked about Weiss yet; Pyrrha had been too busy with customers during the noontime rush, and she hadn’t even thought about it once they’d gotten their own food. But now…

“How… is Weiss?” she asked nervously. Pyrrha’s gaze flickered over to her, scowl fading as she met Yang’s eyes. Even if she was angry, she’d never been the type to let it affect other people.

“I’m… not sure. I went to the manor last night, but the lights were all out. I went back up this morning, and Klein told me she’s refusin’ to see anyone.”

“_She’s _refusin’? Or did her dad…?”

“Klein made it sound like it was Weiss’s decision,” Pyrrha replied, shaking her head and staring into her mug. “But I’m not sure.”

“I’ll go,” Yang volunteered, already dropping her fork onto her plate. “Blake and I both will.”

“Y’want me to go, too?” Ruby asked, though her tone already indicated that she knew the answer. Yang shook her head.

“She might just wanna see folks she knows well. Though, Pyrrha…” Her voice trailed off. She’d been close enough with Pyrrha to stay the night with her, but still turned her away. Why wouldn’t she just do the same to Yang and Blake?

“It’s worth a shot,” Pyrrha said with forced determination. Yang had to admire Pyrrha’s steadiness as she rose, stacking up empty plates and silverware. If it wasn’t for the slight crease in her brows, it might have just been any other day in the saloon.

“I’m sure she’s all right,” Blake added, but slipped a hand into Yang’s, her grip tight.

Just getting through town was a chore. People approached her in the streets, eager to give Yang a congratulatory handshake. To most of the people of Mantle, Schnee’s recount meant nothing. It was simply a formality.

“I know you’ll put this town to rights,” one man told her, shaking her hand enthusiastically. “I know I’ll be able to breathe a little easier at night, knowin’ I won’t have to stress over that man.”

“I’ll do my best to make things fair,” Yang promised, but something felt _off_ about the interaction, and it took her a moment to figure out just what it was: this man hadn’t greeted Blake. He hadn’t even looked at her. It was like she wasn’t there at all.

When he left, Yang stared off after him, puzzled. Blake elbowed her. “What’s wrong?”

“You were standin’ right here, but he didn’t even say hello,” Yang said, wrenching her eyes away from his disappearing figure. Yang linked her arm back with Blake’s, and they continued down the street toward the manor. Blake nodded slowly.

“I’m a Faunus,” she explained, her ears drooping a little. “People aren’t gonna treat me the same like they did when I was human.”

“That’s horrible!” Appalled, Yang turned back in the direction of the man, but he was out of sight. “That ain’t right at all.”

“But it’s how people have always been,” Blake replied, looking at the ground in front of them. “Most people won’t employ us, and even more won’t even look at us. Racism isn’t just violence, Yang. It’s… things like this. These are the people who look the other way when Faunus get hurt, even if they don’t do the hurting themselves.”

Yang clenched her fists. “Faunus aren’t gonna get hurt anymore,” she muttered, more for herself than for Blake. “You’ll see.”

“I believe you,” Blake said, looking back up with a sad smile. “But it’ll take a lot of work.”

When they finally made it to the Schnee manor, Yang rapped at the door. At least Klein was his same, pleasant self, bobbing his head politely to Yang and Blake. Even if Schnee had been furious with her, Yang doubted it would ever make Klein’s demeanor change. She smiled warmly at the man.

“Good to see you, Klein!” she said cheerfully. “Can we come in?”

“Ah…” Klein’s bushy mustache twitched as he frowned. “That… may not be the best idea today, Miss Xiao Long.”

“Please?” Yang asked, then added, in a lower voice, “We just want to check on Weiss.”

Klein hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder. “She… personally instructed me to turn away any visitors,” he replied formally, his tone much more stiff than usual.

“Klein… we’re worried. Is she okay?” Yang strained her ears, but no other sound came from within the manor. No sound of struggle, no sobbing, no screaming. Just the dull ticking of a grandfather clock. Klein looked over his shoulder again.

“She is not… well,” he told them regretfully. He paused, then added, his voice carefully low, “Master Schnee is going to a dinner tonight at the Schwartz ranch. If you return after he leaves, I’ll let you in.”

“Thank you, Klein,” Yang breathed.

“Is she okay?” Blake repeated. Klein nodded.

“Nothing she won’t bounce back from,” he said reassuringly. He offered them an attempt at a smile. “She’ll be all right.”

Which still didn’t sound promising. Neither Yang or Blake said anything as they made their way back through the street. Weiss was okay, Yang reminded herself. They would see her that evening, and she’d be able to see that all her worries had been for nothing.

Still, it did nothing to untangle the knot of worry in her stomach.

It would be a long day, waiting for the recount. Without anything to do, Yang and Blake met Ruby down in the field where Yang held her demonstrations. Ruby was already there, swinging her scythe, showing off. A few people watched from the fence line eagerly as she worked her blade. With a shadow of a smile, Yang remembered their younger days where she’d worn makeshift armor, so that Ruby could practice using her scythe on a moving enemy. Their father had to put a stop to it when Yang’s helmet had failed to prevent a concussion. After that, Ruby practiced on scarecrows and the occasional Grimm.

She was beyond those things now; Ruby moved through the motions like a dance, feet constantly shifting with her balance. Yang spotted a few of her messenger children in the crowd, whispering to each other excitedly. She was pleased to see that her little Faunus messenger, Hugo, was grinning ear-to-ear as he chattered with Paisley. His dog ears didn’t seem to put the girl off; she was returning the grin as she pointed at Ruby.

“You’re rusty, sis,” Yang called out cheerfully. Ruby halted, bringing her scythe down slowly as she looked up at them.

“If anyone’s rusty, it’s you, Yang!” Ruby yelled back, scythe coming back up. With a twirl of her wrists, she swung the scythe around in a lazy figure-eight. “At least _I’ve _been usin’ my skills on the range.”

“I’ve been puttin’ mine to good work!”

“Oh yeah?” Ruby asked, smirking. “You’ll have to prove it.”

“Bring my ammo?”

“You betcha.” Ruby jutted her chin toward the fenceline, where Yang’s box of ammo lay waiting. “I brought those new bullets, too.”

Yang’s eyes lit up. She’d been itching to see what the new Dust was capable of. Ruby, too, was nearly bouncing with anticipation. She’d been the mastermind behind Yang’s first gunslinging demonstrations, showing off what different kinds of Dust bullets could do to different targets. Having a new variety of Dust was like giving Ruby a new toy to play with. Yang turned back to Blake, giving her a quick kiss before hopping over the fence to join her sister.

“The guy that sold ‘em showed me how they worked,” Ruby explained as Yang loaded one of her guns with the Gravity Dust bullets. “It’s pretty crazy.”

“What do they do?”

“You’ll have to see for yourself!” Ruby picked up a tin can she’d stashed nearby, tossing it up and down playfully. “It’ll be a surprise for everyone, I think.” She raised her voice. “Now, everyone watch carefully. Yang ain’t gonna aim for the can, okay? She’s gonna shoot _above _the can!”

“Pardon?” Yang frowned. She didn’t like wasting ammo, and the last time she’d missed a target… Unease crawled down her skin. But Ruby’s silver eyes danced.

“Aim _above_ the can,” she repeated. “Just by a few feet.”

Ruby took a few steps back, then darted to one of the hefty targets that Yang kept in the field. She balanced the tin can on top of it, then retreated. When she was far enough back, she gave Yang a thumbs up. Yang looked back over to the fence, where Blake was watching with as much curiosity as the rest of the crowd. Catching Yang’s eye, she smiled encouragingly.

Yang sighed, shrugged, then pulled the trigger.

She didn’t see what happened immediately. As she fired, it felt like something was trying to _tug _the gun from her hand. It twitched, almost of its own accord, and she pulled it back instinctually. But it lasted for only a fraction of a second, and she nearly dropped her gun as whatever-it-was released its hold. Distracted, she didn’t recognize the sound of a bullet hitting tin until seconds after the fact.

“What the fuck?” Yang blinked, looking up at her target. The tin can was _more _than shot through. It had practically crumpled in on itself. She stared.

“Isn’t that _amazing_?!” Ruby squeaked, hands shooting to her face giddily.

“I don’t… understand…” Yang said, looking down at her gun as if it might explain what had happened. The spectators were clapping, and some of the kids were jumping up and down ecstatically. She still didn’t get it.

“It’s _gravity_!” Ruby told her excitedly, hurriedly racing for another can. “The salesman was sayin’ it, like… bends force around it, or somethin’. It sucks things into it! They’re tryin’ to invent ways to use it in machinery, because it’s so strong. Like a magnet, only more versatile.”

“Like a magnet…” Yang repeated. It struck an uncomfortable chord in her gut. The Dust had been strong enough that a single bullet had tried to pull her gun from her, even as it fired. _Like a magnet_…

“Here!” Ruby said, setting another can on the target. “Try it again!”

This time, Yang was prepared for what felt like anti-recoil. Her palms were sweating around her grip, but she held on tightly. This time, she was able to watch as the tin can seemed to leap in the direction of the bullet. The shot itself was too fast to see, but it was like the can _threw _itself at the bullet, crumpling around it. Still, the bullet cut cleanly through the tin.

It was almost like magic, and Yang stared at the second can where it landed. Something akin to dread pounded through her body.

“That was _incredible_!” Ruby announced, unaware of that Yang’s expression had completely fallen. Among the onlookers, Blake tilted her head quizzically.

“Not very practical for shootin’,” Yang replied, forcing a smile. “Prob’ly only good for demonstrations, so I shouldn’t waste ‘em.”

“The salesman was tellin’ me that he’s experimentin’ with different amounts of Dust, too,” Ruby told her as Yang unloaded the rest of the Gravity Dust rounds. “Like, the more Dust, the more powerful the gravity force field is gonna be. These ones don’t have much ‘cause they’re still pretty experimental, but think of what they could do! Inventors are goin’ nuts with this stuff, thinkin’ of ways to use it to pull heavy things, to lift, to push… Just look what it did to that can. If they make bullets with even more of the Dust in ‘em, think of what those bullets could do! Think of what this _Dust _could do!”

Yang had a sinking suspicion that she already knew.

“What was that about?” Blake asked as they made their way back to Yang’s house.

“Huh?” Yang asked distractedly.

“You looked like you’d been slapped out there.”

“Oh…” Yang frowned. She was still thinking of Ruby’s excited ramblings on what this Dust could be capable of. “These bullets… kind of freak me out a little, I guess,” she admitted.

“How so?”

“They’re… pretty powerful. I mean, not very useful for day-to-day stuff. Did you see the way the tin can just… lifted out of the air?” Yang chewed the inside of her cheek. “Ruby was saying they’re gonna use it more in, like… machines and stuff.”

“It could be useful for that.”

“Yeah…” Yang tried to put a bit of lightness into her agreement, but Blake knew better than that. She squeezed Yang’s hand.

“What are you thinking?”

“It just… pulled that can so _quickly_. How can a bullet move so fast, but still pull a tin can into it like that?”

“Dust is pretty remarkable…” Blake said reasonably.

“It would be pretty easy to stop a bullet with it, too, wouldn’t it? Make it change direction mid-air?”

Blake froze, her ears shooting up. Slowly, she turned, blood draining from her face. “Sort of like…”

“Adam.” Yang remembered the unnatural glint of red metal, the way her bullets had gravitated toward his blade. They’d bounced off of it, rendered useless. “He must’ve used Gravity Dust, somehow.”

“He… used…” Blake stared at Yang, eyes unfocused. “But… how?”

“Shit… I was hopin’ you might know.”

Blake shook her head unhappily. “I knew he was trying to figure out how to get around your bullets, but I never knew… that he’d found one.”

Yang knew the words shouldn’t have hurt-- if he’d truly been using Gravity Dust, then it wasn’t her fault that she’d missed. But they _did_ hurt, and she looked away from Blake, ashamed.

“How would it even work? With a sword?” Blake asked quietly, almost to herself.

“I dunno…” Yang ground her heel into the dirt. “Guns are my thing, not swords.”

“But Ruby knows close-combat stuff, right? Would she know?”

Yang grimaced. “She doesn’t… I mean, I haven’t exactly told her that I… y’know. Missed.”

When she dared to look back up at Blake, the other woman was gazing at her softly. It was too close to sympathy for Yang to truly appreciate it. Sympathy wasn’t something for Yang Xiao Long.

“You didn’t miss,” Blake told her, fingers brushing Yang’s temple, sliding into the hair beneath her hat. “If he’s using Gravity Dust, it had nothing to do with your aim.”

“I know that,” Yang said defensively, but Blake’s touch loosened the muscles in her shoulders. She hadn’t even realized how tense she was. “I just… I dunno.”

“And she definitely isn’t gonna look down on you, even if you did miss,” she added firmly. “I know she loves you, and something like this isn’t gonna change that.”

“I know that, too,” Yang replied with a sigh. “But, like… I can’t have her see me as… weak, y’know?”

“You’re not weak.” Blake leaned forward, bobbing her head up to nudge Yang’s hat out of the way. It gave her space to rest her forehead against Yang’s. “You’re the _Gunslinger_, for godsake. Your whole thing is _not_ being weak.” She ran her thumb down Yang’s cheek. “Missing once doesn’t make you weak, especially if it wasn’t possible to make the shot in the first place.” 

Finally-- _finally_\-- Yang attempted a smile, a slight, sardonic curling of her lip. She leaned in close, pulling Blake’s lips to hers. Dust, Yang told herself. She’d only missed because of the Dust. She was still the gunslinger she’d always been.

She was still the gunslinger.

“Sorry,” she murmured, “for sounding so pathetic.”

“Yang Xiao Long,” Blake replied, catching her chin. “I don’t think you know the first thing about _pathetic_.”

\--

There was nothing like a ride to clear her head.

On Bumblebee’s back, Yang could feel like herself. After all, this horse had been the closest thing she’d had to a real home for years, the one constant in her life when she drove cattle. As she and Blake trotted away from the town proper, Yang felt a weight lifted. It was only herself, Blake, and the horses, and it felt free.

Blake was a vision on Ribbon. She suited the horse so much better than Yang ever had, and she could hardly keep her eyes off of them. _This _was what people imagined when they thought of the wild west: a woman like Blake, back straight atop her horse, lips quirking in a pleased smile. She’d even dressed more like a cattle driver than a saloon girl, with Yang’s hat on her head and canvas pants instead of her usual skirt. She would have fit in perfectly with the other cattle drivers, if it hadn’t been for the purple bruise she still bore around her neck.

Before they’d left the town, Yang had given Blake one of her guns to keep holstered at her waist. Blake had protested, but it was more for Yang’s peace of mind than anything else. Outside of town, there was always the chance of coming across a Grimm.

Or worse.

“From horseback, it’s easier to shoot ‘em with a gun than screwin’ around with a knife,” Yang explained as they trotted along a dirt road. “And Ribbon’s used to shootin’, so she won’t buck you or anything if you do have to do that.”

“I just hope no one from town sees me carrying this thing,” Blake remarked, though she didn’t sound truly anxious about it. “You know folks will throw a fit if they see a Faunus with a weapon. You aren’t technically the mayor till the recount’s finished.”

“Yeah, well… they’ll have to get through me if they wanna arrest you again.”

“It doesn’t mean you should go out of your way to give them grief.”

“It’s for _protection_,” Yang replied, shrugging. “It’s not like you’re runnin’ through town, shootin’ people.”

“That’s the White Fang’s job,” Blake said with a shake of her head. Yang’s hat was a little too big on her head, and it wobbled with the motion.

“Speakin’ of…” Yang reined Bumblebee to a halt, so that her question wouldn’t be lost to the sound of hoofbeats. “How do I get in touch with Sienna?”

Blake slowed Ribbon, coming to a stop just ahead of Yang. She tilted her head, thoughtful. “I think I know a way. I don’t know if Ilia still checks the spot where I used to leave messages, but if she does… maybe she can get the message passed on. And if not, Sun might have an idea of who’s got White Fang connections.”

“Is it normal? To have connections?”

Blake’s smile was humorless, and she urged Ribbon back to a walk. Yang followed suit. “You could say that.”

“I honestly don’t know these things,” Yang told her, trying to not get too exasperated. “All I know about the White Fang is that they’re s’posed to want equal rights, but they also burn down homes and massacre people in autotrains. Which is kinda a shitty way to try and get what they want.”

Blake sighed. “I know. Which is why I left. But nobody would listen to us when we were peaceful, and that’s how Sienna rose to power in the first place. When we got more aggressive, people _did_ start to listen to us. But it wasn’t out of respect; it was out of fear. But it was better than being oppressed. Or, it was supposed to be.”

Yang nodded slowly. “I guess I can understand that, even if I don’t much care for it.”

“People will do anything to get out of Menagerie,” Blake went on, her words underscored by the steady clopping of horse hooves, making them almost ominous. “Even though it’s the only place on Remnant that accepts Faunus, it’s small, and cramped, and dirty. You’ve got huge families living in poverty, since the island doesn’t exactly have many jobs or export anything good. People just can’t find work. And then there’s the clan wars. It’s not unheard of for a street to get blown up for no reason. So of course people there are gonna try and get out. And then you’ve got people like Schnee, who take advantage of that.”

“With indenture,” Yang said, understanding coming with queasiness. Blake nodded.

“He promises that, if you work a certain number of years in his mines, he’ll feed you, clothe you, house you, and, when it’s done, he’ll give each person some land. So you’ve got people in Menagerie flooding to him, signing themselves and their entire families into his contracts with the idea that when they’re done, they can have a farm and a means to sustain themselves. They just don’t realize that not many people get out of the mines in one piece, and the ones who do are given cheap, barren land. And _then _they have to deal with the general intolerance toward Faunus, so it’s hard for them to make a living anyway. But since it’s hard to get in or out of Menagerie, not many of our people know this. They come to Solitas, or Anima, or Vacuo, with so many hopes, and slowly have that hope snuffed out. In the White Fang, we tried to help runaways when we could. We’d try to get them north, where nobody would arrest them for running from their indenture.

“But we fought so much for ourselves, too. In Argus, and Atlas, and Haven, just walking down the wrong street would be enough to make people angry.” Blake stared at Ribbon’s black mane, as if she were in a trance. “I’d see people come to our meetings with black eyes and broken bones, just for not knowing their way around the city. Hell, my first time in Atlas, I got lost and went on a wrong street. I got lucky. A couple kids cornered me and wouldn’t let me go until I meowed for them.”

“Gods.” Yang stared at Blake, fighting back her rage. “If anyone tries to do that here, you tell me and I’ll knock their skull in.”

Blake chuckled. “Noted. But it’s just… we just want to live peacefully. That’s all most of us want.”

“Vale is definitely a better place for Faunus, from what I’ve seen. It’s very peaceful there,” Yang told her, wishing she could banish the shadow that hovered over their conversation. Blake nodded.

“So I hear.”

“Have you ever been?”

“No, but I’ve always meant to,” she replied wistfully. Yang forced a smile.

“I’ll take you someday. It’s nice. Not like here. It gets cold, but there’s _trees_ up there, and they’re _green_. Imagine, riding our horses through a forest…”

“It sounds romantic.”

“It will be,” Yang said confidently. “You and me, we’re gonna see everything. The leaves, the snow, the flowers…”

“I’ll hold you to it.” With a more relaxed sort of smile, Blake kicked Ribbon into a trot. Yang allowed a few seconds to stare after her, at the way the sunlight glinted of Blake’s loose black hair, before following after her. On their horses, the rest of the world could disappear into just the two of them.

\--

By the time Blake and Yang got back to town, the sun was beginning to sink beyond the featureless horizon. Yang took her gun back from Blake; now that they were back in town, Blake possessing a weapon would be dangerous for her. Blake handed the hat back, as well, her ears springing up from where they’d been tucked away. Though, Yang admitted, the hat had looked good on Blake. Very good, in fact.

Not wanting to lose any time, they handed Bumblebee and Ribbon off to Sage and Sun before making a beeline for the manor. Yang was half-tempted to run down to Crocea Mors to grab Pyrrha and Ruby, but thought better of it. Until Yang had a better grasp of the situation, it would be safer to not bring too many people. 

Schnee’s autocar was gone from its usual spot, and the entire house looked dark. Yang knocked anyway, relieved when Klein opened the door for them.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, Miss Xiao Long. Miss Belladonna,” he said pleasantly, gesturing for them to enter. It was so like Yang’s previous visits to the manor that for a brief moment, she was positive nothing was amiss. “Could I offer you a drink?”

“No, thank you,” Blake replied politely, but Yang pushed past the courtesies completely.

“Where’s Weiss?”

“In her office. I informed her that you would be coming. She… told me to try to convince you to leave.” He raised an eyebrow. “Which, I’m presuming you will refuse to do.”

“Damn right.” Yang had never felt as much gratitude for the manservant as she did then. Schnee wouldn’t have been happy to know that Klein had allowed the new mayor and her Faunus lover into his home. He clearly cared enough for Weiss to allow a bit of rule-bending. “Thank you, Klein.”

Yang knocked at the heavy wooden door of Weiss’s office, and for a long moment, there was no response. Blake and Yang looked at each other with an equal measure of concern before they finally heard a, “Come in.”

If Yang had thought Weiss looked disheveled the day before, it was nothing compared to how she looked now. For a brief moment, all she could do was stare.

She’d never seen Weiss wear her hair down before, but it hung low on her back, only half-brushed, the opposite of the careful neatness Yang had come to expect from the heiress. Her eyes were bloodshot, like she’d recently been crying, but her blue eyes still glared at the way Yang stared at her. She nodded at the chairs in front of her desk.

“Klein said you’d be coming,” she said irritably. “Even though I ordered him to turn away any visitors.”

She was wearing a _dressing gown_, Yang realized. She hadn’t even bothered to get dressed.

“We were all worried,” Blake said, taking charge of the conversation over Yang’s shocked silence. “Especially when we heard you’d turned Pyrrha away.”

“She doesn’t need to see me like this,” Weiss replied flatly, back straight and unyielding. She didn’t move a muscle. And for a moment, none of them could find any words to say. Yang wracked her brain, trying to think of what she _could _say.

Again, it was Blake who spoke first. “So what happened?” she asked. Weiss’s expression didn’t change.

“As expected, he was displeased about the outcome of the election,” she replied, one shoulder rising and falling in a shrug. “And… about the forum itself.”

“And?” Yang said, a scowl falling onto her face before she could stop it. Weiss shrugged again.

“And that was it.”

“You’re lyin’ through your teeth.”

Weiss glared harder, and made to fold her arms across her chest in irritation, but stopped the movement before she could finish it. She grimaced, lowering her hands back into her lap, and only then did Yang see that she was wearing gloves. Unlike the dainty white gloves that upper-class women often wore, these were much too big, too thick, hanging loosely on her hands.

“I’m still working on convincing my father that I can…” Her lip curled, almost into a snarl, “_carry the weight _of the Schnee Dust Company.”

One of Blake’s ears twitched curiously, and Yang’s eyebrows shot up. “Does he not think you can?”

“He’s sent for my brother Whitley, from our family’s estate in Atlas,” she explained, her voice cold. “He hasn’t formally disinherited me, but he did the same thing with me when Winter was on the outs, and he did disinherit her in the end. So I know he’s thinking about it, and I’m making it my priority to keep him from doing that.”

“He’s thinking about disinheriting you?” Blake said, eyes going wide. “For… for what you did?”

“He hasn’t outright said so… but he’s made it _very _clear that he’s lost his confidence in me.” Maybe it wasn’t coldness in Weiss’s voice. It was bitterness, only mistaken for coldness. Yang’s stomach dropped as she wondered if that’s what her icy demeanor had truly been all along. “So I’m doing everything in my power to remind him that I’m still the best choice to inherit. I can’t let this company go to my brother.”

“I didn’t even know you _had _a brother,” Yang remarked, leaning back in her chair, pushing it onto its back feet, acting more relaxed than she truly felt.

“He’s never been to Mantle. He’s never needed to. It was only ever Father and I who needed to be here, but now…” Weiss bit her lip, looking out the window dismally.

“Weiss,” Yang asked, trying to keep her tone easy. “You know we’re here for you, right? Even if he _does_ do that.”

“But I can’t _let _him!” Weiss exploded, pushing her chair back and leaping up. “If control of the company goes to Whitley, there will be _nothing _I can do to help. He’ll keep treating the miners like garbage, and he’ll try to bully everyone on the city council, and make things miserable for _everyone_, not just the Faunus. At least, as heiress, I can do something, but if not--”

Weiss stared out the window as she spoke, not even noticing when Yang rose, to walk around her desk. Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around Weiss in a careful hug, shutting the woman up. Weiss stiffened, but didn’t push her away.

“We’re not gonna let him get away with his bullshit anymore,” Yang told her, keeping her voice low and reassuring. “No matter what.”

Awkwardly, Weiss’s arms came up, returning the embrace with slow and obvious uncertainty. Her despair was palpable, so much deeper than her exterior had ever allowed them to see. How had Yang never thought to probe beyond the surface? Even ice only ran so deep. It could never truly freeze the current that ran beneath it. Yang had been a fool to think otherwise.

“What’s wrong with your hands?” Blake suddenly asked, and Yang realized that while Weiss’s arms had returned the hug, she couldn’t feel her hands on her back.

Weiss pulled herself back, expression clouded. “It’s… not as bad as the other time,” she muttered.

“What’s that mean?” Yang asked. She took a hold of Weiss’s wrist, her touch feather-light so that Weiss would know she could pull away. She didn’t, only biting her lip, hunting for her voice.

“He wanted to make sure I could _carry the weight _of the company in _my two hands_,” she replied after an uncomfortable ten seconds of silence. “The family legacy. You know. Dust.”

Eyes searching Weiss’s for permission, Yang peeled back one of the gloves. Weiss winced, but pulled her hand, doing her part to help the process. When it was off, Yang wondered if she would have even been _able _to take them off on her own. They were covered in massive, oozing blisters, spreading painfully from her palms to the tips of her fingers. Yang stared in horror, frozen in place, and Blake had to peer over her shoulder to see what was wrong.

“Dust,” Yang repeated.

“He made sure not to use Ice Dust this time,” Weiss mumbled, not looking either of them in the eye. “When he did, I dropped it and the ice crystals that exploded out of it almost cost me an eye.”

“And this was…?” Yang said, unable to wrench her eyes away from the angry mess of Weiss’s hand.

“Unrefined Fire Dust. Not enough to explode in my hands, but enough to burn. He wanted to see that I still have it in me. That I’m still capable of carrying our family’s legacy.”

“This has nothing to do with carrying a legacy,” Yang snapped, irises as red as an offending crystal of Fire Dust. “This is _wrong_.”

“And I don’t have a choice,” Weiss snapped, jerking her hand away. “If holding a Dust crystal is what it takes to keep this company, I’ll do it. I’ll do it a hundred times, until I lose my hands or my eyes or _everything_. Because if the company goes to Whitley, it’s not just the Faunus who’ll suffer. This whole _town _will, and other towns, and all small businesses and the people who depend on them. He’d control the world if he could, hiding behind our family name. And Whitley will bend over _backwards _to do the things Father says. If I can stay heiress, at least I can hold him back. I can make things _better_, going forward.”

“But you shouldn’t have to put up with any of it!”

“If one person has to make a sacrifice to make things better for everyone else, I’ll do it in a heartbeat!” Weiss replied angrily. “For some people, it’s their job to do that. Not everyone gets happy endings, Yang. I just want to make sure that happy endings are possible for _others_.”

Eyes still red, Yang tried to soften her gaze as she took a hold of Weiss’s wrist again, gently. As much as she would have loved to keep arguing, Weiss wasn’t well, and riling her up would only make it worse. So she tried to look at her hand from a clinical perspective; it was a burn, but it seemed mostly superficial. No dead tissue, which was a relief. No doubt Schnee had been more careful than he’d been when he’d used Ice Dust all that time ago.

“Ruby might be able to help with this,” she said at last. “She knows all the best healing ointments and treatments-- she’s pretty friendly with the healer in Argus that makes the bruise stuff.”

“And you shouldn’t wear gloves that are thick like that,” Blake added, frowning as she leaned in for a closer look. “Just bandages should do. Loose, and breathable.”

“Oh,” Weiss replied in a small voice. “I… didn’t know.”

“Good thing you’ve got us, then,” Yang said, trying to keep her words light. She even attempted a smile. “We can help you, y’know. If you need it.”

“And… it’s all right, if you need to leave this place. If things go badly,” Blake put in. “We want you to be safe.”

“Thanks… but honestly, I’ll be fine,” Weiss replied, a little life coming back into her words. “It’s not usually like this.”

Yang held her tongue. She didn’t trust that statement at all, despite the confidence Weiss seemed to have. She wondered if there would be a mob if she arrested Schnee for this. Instead of arguing, though, she pulled Weiss in for another hug.

“Anytime you need me,” she murmured, “I’ll be here, okay?”

“Oh,” Weiss said again, but at least now, she didn’t stiffen at the embrace. She sank into it. When Blake came around from the other side, arms going around both of them, Weiss made a small sound in the back of her throat that could have been a sigh, or could have been a whimper.

Whatever it was, it broke Yang’s heart.

She thought about asking Weiss about the Gravity Dust, but that could wait another day. It would have been too much for that evening. She didn’t need a new worry to stress about. It was hard enough convincing her to let Yang brush her hair.

“You’re allowed to get help when you need it, y’know,” Yang told her when Weiss led them to her bedroom. She sat Weiss at her vanity, in front of the large mirror it held. “One of us can come out tonight, too, if you want. And tomorrow. Until your hands are healed up.”

“I don’t _need_ help,” Weiss protested weakly, even as Yang picked up a silver-handled brush and began to work it through her hair. 

“But I’m sure you’ll feel better for it, right?”

“I guess…”

“It’s always nice to have someone help,” Blake added, looking up from the dresser, where she was rifling around for a fresh nightgown. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without Yang the other day.”

“And Blake helped me after I got my ass beat by those Deathstalkers.” Yang paused, smiling a little. “Not that I _actually _got my ass beat. My ass don’t get beat.”

“Not unless you want it,” Blake teased, and in the mirror, Yang could see the wink.

“I don’t want to hear those words ever again,” Weiss grumbled, glaring at both of their reflections. Both of Yang and Blake laughed.

“Pyrrha can help, too, y’know,” Blake said, after finding the nightgowns and pulling one out.

“She doesn’t need to see me like this.”

“She’s been worried, too,” Yang reminded her, trying to work through a tangle as gently as she could. “She cares about you. That, and your dad prob’ly won’t mind her visiting as much as me and Blake.”

“Oh…” Weiss looked taken aback at the argument; it was a valid one. “I… suppose you have a point there.”

As Yang brushed her hair, the tension in Weiss’s shoulders began to relax. There was no way she was used to someone doing this for her. Yang always loved it whenever Blake ran her fingers through her own hair, or whenever she was given the chance to play with Blake’s. But to Weiss, it was a foreign concept, and it made Yang infinitely sad.

“If your dad’s still out, I’ll come back tonight with Ruby,” Yang promised as Blake finished bandaging Weiss’s hands. “Hopefully, she’s got somethin’ on hand for the burns. If not, we’ll come by tomorrow, when he leaves. I’ll send Pyrrha over, too.”

“I… all right,” Weiss agreed, still sounding unsure. She stared at her bandaged hands, like she didn’t recognize them on her own body. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“We’re just glad you’re okay,” Blake told her warmly. “If you ever need anything… just let us know. Send us a message, or something.”

“All right,” Weiss said again, finally looking up at them. Hair brushed, she looked much more like her old self than she had in her office. She smiled. “Thank you.”

It was so good to see that smile. Yang hugged her again, rubbing comforting circles into her back and Weiss’s knees buckled as she buried her face into Yang’s shoulder, body molding against her own. “We’ve got you,” she said softly, nails scratching lightly as she rubbed. She pressed a light kiss to Weiss’s forehead. “We’ve got you.”

It was with lighter hearts that Yang and Blake returned to the saloon, hand in hand. For a Sunday night, Crocea Mors was busy, full of excited, chattering people. A number of them had crowded around Ruby, who was standing on a chair and regaling them with what was probably another overly-exaggerated tale of fighting Grimm. In one hand, she was waving her mug around as a makeshift scythe. Yang hoped the mug was empty.

“But what was the relic _for_?” she heard Penny ask. Yang rolled her eyes, but circled around the crowd to get to the bar. It sounded like Ruby had moved past the truth and somewhere into fantasy.

“We just got word in, Yang!” Nora called to them, pumping a fist in the air. “The recount confirmed it. You’re mayor now! For sure!”

Blake breathed a sigh of relief, accepting the mugs that Nora slid in their direction. She handed one to Yang, smiling. So that’s why the saloon was busy. Even a couple Faunus were among the people gathered, seemingly in celebration. Sun and Sage were on one end of the bar, Sun’s tail swinging around distractedly as he said something to Neptune, who laughed.

“And everyone’s good with that?” Yang asked, eyebrow cocked.

“Everyone here, at least.” Nora bobbed her head in Sun’s direction. “Some people are trying to stay away from the Faunus, but for the most part, everyone’s in good spirits. Nobody’s openly complaining.”

“To Mayor Xiao Long!” Sun hollered, suddenly noticing her. He raised a mug, and most of the people around them joined in.

“To Mayor Xiao Long!”

Yang rolled her eyes and took a hefty swig from her mug. Toasts were always a good sign. Then again, Crocea Mors was one of the more progressive saloons. Yang wished she could’ve been a fly on the wall at someplace like the Black Saloon or Tiger Lily. The people in those saloons probably weren’t celebrating the results of the recount.

They didn’t plan to stay long; Yang wanted to get started on writing a message to Sienna. As soon as they could, they caught Pyrrha to explain the situation. Her vivid green eyes rounded with horror.

“That man’s the devil,” she said in a low voice. “How does she even stand it?”

“She thinks it’s a sacrifice she has to make, or something,” Yang told her, folding her arms in exasperation. “Gods, I wish we could just drag her out of there.”

“I’ll do what I can for her,” Pyrrha said, more gently. “And maybe I can convince her.”

“I hope so,” Blake added with a small nod. “Because nobody deserves that.”

“Except Schnee himself,” Yang muttered. Blake set a hand on her arm, though whether it meant to calm her or agree with her, Yang couldn’t say.

It was refreshing to be back in Ruby’s company. She was unburdened by the events of that day and bolstered by the beer her listeners kept buying for her. She laughed loudly and often, the sound so contagious that both Yang and Blake ended up smiling as they listened to her talk.

“The food in Vale is the _best_,” Ruby told everyone dreamily. “They have great soil up there, and I swear, the fruit and vegetables they grow ends up ten times bigger than the scrawny shit we get down here. I saw a pumpkin, once, that was so big that they carved it out and turned it into a boat!”

“That one’s true,” Yang confirmed, raising her mug. “I saw that one with my own two eyes.”

“An inspiration to gourds everywhere!” Ruby cheered, raising her own. Beside her, Penny Poledina giggled, her cheeks rosy with drink.

Blake and Yang only stayed a little while longer, long enough to finish their beers and contradict some of Ruby’s wilder claims. It was impressive, really, how much extra detail Ruby managed to add to what Yang had always considered to be simple stories.

“You should really turn this into a book, sis,” Yang commented with a chuckle.

“Oh, stop!” Ruby said with a giggle, waving a bashful hand. “You’re just sayin’ that!”

“I know_ I’d_ buy one!” Nora called from down the counter.

“It certainly adds a new dimension to cattle driving,” Ren agreed as he filled up more mugs.

“And it’s all _true_!” Ruby declared, slamming her mug onto the counter decisively. Whatever beer had been left in it splashed into the air and Jaune, who’d been leaning close to listen to Ruby’s tall tales, leaped back with a groan. 

“Ruby!” he complained, wiping at his face. Ruby opened her mouth to apologize, but a snort came out instead.

In the end, they left Ruby at the saloon. Maybe they wouldn’t need her, anyway. Yang wasn’t above snooping in her sister’s things for potential medicines for Weiss; Ruby would understand a good cause.

“You sure this is okay?” Blake asked when they got back to the house to dig through Ruby’s bags.

“I’m her sister. It’s practically expected.” Yang paused over a mail-order catalogue, tucking it aside for later perusal. “Besides, she snoops right back.”

Blake chuckled. “It’s probably for the best that I was an only child, then.”

“Nah, I liked having a sister. We got really close after Mom died. I wanted to make sure she was taken care of. We’ve always been there for each other.” Yang pulled out a single red sock, stiff with dirt and disuse. She made a face and tossed it into a corner of the room. 

“I think it’s sweet.”

Yang looked up, returning the small smile that Blake gave her. “Yeah. I s’pose it is.”

Ruby’s jars of ointments and creams were packed neatly in a small bag, and Yang examined them one at a time. Not all of them were labelled, much to Yang’s annoyance. She opened some up, trying to identify them by smell and how they felt between her fingers, but it was all for naught. Yang groaned, replacing them all and getting back up to her feet.

“I hope she knows which one’s what,” she grumbled, swiping the catalogue before leading Blake out of the room. “There’s no way I could keep track of any of that.”

“We all know that shooting things is the only thing you’re capable of,” Blake teased. Yang laughed, catching Blake around the waist and reeling her in.

“So that’s what y’think, huh?”

“_Yang_!”

Yang dipped her slightly, keeping a firm hold on her back as she leaned over to kiss her, to remind her that shooting was most definitely not the only thing she was good at. And Blake didn’t argue, returning the kiss hungrily, one hand exploring the muscles of Yang’s neck as she pressed closer. Yang dropped the catalogue out of her hands, not opening her eyes as she tugged Blake in the direction of the bedroom, bumping against the doorframe as she went.

She owed Blake something, after all.

But she couldn’t let herself fall asleep afterwards. Leaving Blake in bed, she rose and pulled on a nightshirt. After a minute of searching, she found a piece of paper and a pen, then sat down at her desk.

“What’re you doing?” Blake asked tiredly, pushing herself up onto her elbows. The view was enough to make Yang want to return to bed, but she resisted.

“My message.” Yang stared down at the blank piece of paper. One wrong word could ruin everything.

“Oh.” Blake’s eyes had been hazy, but they sharpened with understanding. “Did you want to get it out tonight?”

“The sooner, the better,” Yang said with a nod. “I don’t know how often your contact comes by, but if she sees it tonight…”

“Right.” Blake nodded. She slid out of bed, not bothering to dress before coming over to where Yang sat. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders, content with the simple intimacy of contact. “And I’ll check with Sun tomorrow, just in case this doesn’t work.”

“Great.” Yang tipped her head back, inhaling Blake’s intoxicating scent. She set her pen down, reaching a hand back to run through her silky black hair. But she had to write. Regretfully, she pulled her head back up, though Blake didn’t let go, her skin a comforting warmth against her back. Yang picked the pen back up, tapping it thoughtfully against the desk.

This was her first act as mayor, and it would be done in secret. There was no way this could bode well, but she pushed the thought to the back of her mind. If it worked, it would protect the town. She took a deep breath and began to write.

_To the High Leader Sienna Khan..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU AGAIN to Aziminil for her suggestions... she's doing the lord's work...


	10. Chapter 10

“Gravity Dust,” Weiss mused, leaning back in her chair. Pyrrha had worked wonders when she visited that morning, and Weiss looked almost like her old self. Her long white hair was still damp, but pulled into a neat side-ponytail. She was dressed as well as she ever had, her blouse without even a wrinkle. If it hadn’t been for the bandages on her hands, nobody would have suspected anything was wrong. “I suppose this means the Caspian Brothers hit the jackpot on their mine.”

“The who?” Yang asked, adjusting Blake on her lap. Weiss had only been prepared for the two of them, but at the last minute, Ruby had decided to tag along with a bag of salves and ointments. Though sharing a seat with Blake wasn’t any trouble for Yang, it had both Ruby and Weiss rolling their eyes.

“The Caspian Brothers. They’re my father’s biggest competitor, and they were the ones who discovered Gravity Dust. They’re based out of Vacuo.”

“So you knew about this Dust?” Blake asked, frowning, absently toying with Yang’s vest. “So how come nobody here knew?”

“It has even been a year since they found it, and it hasn’t been available to the general public,” Weiss explained. “And of course, it’s been driving Father crazy, that they’ve cornered the market on something so new. So he’s been sending exploratory teams to Vacuo, trying to find other Gravity Dust deposits. He was hoping that the Caspians wouldn’t have enough to sell commercially until he’d found a mine of his own, but since people are turning it into bullets already…” Weiss raised her shoulder in a shrug. “I guess the word’s out.”

“They were still super expensive,” Ruby told her helpfully. “There’s no way most people can afford it yet.”

“But the fact that it’s being sold at all… Father is not going to be happy.” Tiredly, Weiss closed her eyes, like she could already see her father’s anger unfold. “He hated the Caspians before, but now that they have a monopoly over the Gravity Dust... well, he doesn’t like competition.”

“I can see that,” Yang muttered.

“So once the news of Gravity Dust starts trickling out, he’s going to be a nightmare to deal with,” Weiss sighed. “And I’m sure, since people saw you use the bullets, word’s going to spread about the new Dust.” She paused, expression pained. “And it’s going to be a mess.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t’ve brought them out yesterday,” Ruby remarked regretfully. “I’m sorry, Weiss.”

“It’s… not your fault,” Weiss replied with a short shake of her head. “It’s only hastened the inevitable. I just wish it could’ve happened at a different time.”

Yang’s eyes flickered over the desk to Weiss’s hands again. She hadn’t touched anything with her hands at all in the time they’d been in her office. She hadn’t opened the door, picked up any of her papers, fiddled with a pen. Instead, she kept them carefully palm-up on her lap, but nothing about her expression or voice betrayed any of the pain she had to have felt.

“How’re your hands feeling?” she asked, nodding at them. Weiss made a face.

“It’s… difficult. But Pyrrha’s been a godsend.”

“Can I see?” Ruby asked, but it wasn’t out of curiosity. Her dark eyebrows were furrowed in thought as she started to rifle through her bag. Reluctantly, Weiss brought her hands up and set them on the desk. With a slight nudge to get Blake off her lap, Yang rounded the desk, hunching over it to gently unwind the bandages.

Her hands looked worse today; a couple of the large blisters had popped, and the raw skin underneath was a bright, glistening red. Yang grimaced, then unwound the other one. Pyrrha must have changed them this morning, but the bandages were still stained with pus.

“How can someone do that?” Ruby asked, horrified as she stared. “Holding unrefined Dust is _dangerous_. It could’ve blown you up!”

“They were small crystals,” Weiss replied stonily. “Even if I dropped them, it wouldn’t have done much damage. Not like what happened last time.”

“Last time… it hurt your eye, right?” Ruby’s face pulled in sympathy. “Yang told me a little about that. Your dad sounds like a monster.”

“He is,” Blake agreed, and Weiss bit her lip. Carefully, Ruby lifted one of Weiss’s hands, making sure not to touch the damaged skin. She peered at it, then nodded.

“It’ll hurt for now, but you should heal up fine. Don’t pop any of the blisters on purpose, but if they do, I’ve got this stuff that should keep out infection.” On cue, she pulled unscrewed the cap to one of her jars, taking out a small glob of white cream. “If you can’t do it yourself, get one of us to help, or Pyrrha. Put this on twice a day, until the skin’s all healed up. Can I?”

At Weiss’s nod, she began to smear a thin layer of the cream onto the raw skin. Weiss winced, but Yang set a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. Ruby had never been squeamish, but Yang was still surprised with the ease Ruby worked.

“There ain’t much you can do for the blisters themselves-- the skin over ‘em is all dead, so puttin’ anything on ‘em won’t do much good for pain. But I’ve got this other stuff that you can put _around _the blisters, and it’s safe to put on the popped ones, too. It should help a little bit with the pain, at least, but you still won’t wanna grab stuff until your hands are better.”

Blake poked her head over Ruby’s shoulder, watching curiously. “You know a lot,” she commented, surprised. Ruby looked up at her, grinning.

“I made sure to learn a lot, before I started drivin’ cattle,” she explained, wrapping fresh bandages around Weiss’s hands. “You never know what’s gonna happen when you’re out on the range for months at a time, so I try to be prepared!”

It was more than that, though Yang kept her mouth shut on the subject. After Summer had died, Ruby had started asking _what-ifs_ about her death. _What if _Summer had this particular medicine? _What if _Summer had known how to treat a particular wound? _What if _she could’ve been saved that day? It was this anxiety that drove Ruby to constantly learn about the healing arts, to try out different medicines. If Ruby could help it, nobody else would suffer her mother’s fate.

“I have some ideas about your eye, too!” she added brightly, tying the second bandage into place.

“What about my eye?”

“Yang told me your eye injury gives you headaches sometimes. Is that right?”

“Nothing is going to cure my eye,” Weiss replied flatly.

“No,” Ruby agreed, “but there are things you can do to prevent the headaches.”

Yang looked over at Blake, eyebrow raised. She’d mentioned the issues with Weiss’s eye, but hadn’t realized Ruby had given it any thought. Blake shrugged, the corner of her mouth tugging in a small smile.

“What do you mean?” Weiss was all suspicion, but Yang could sense her hope. Ruby straightened, nodding.

“If one eye sees perfectly and the other doesn’t...” Ruby squinted one eye, as if it would help her point. “...the disparity is gonna cause headaches.”

“I _know_ that.”

“So what you gotta do is get rid of the disparity completely!”

“My _eye_?!” Weiss demanded, horrified. Ruby giggled and shook her head.

“Nah! I was thinkin’ something a little less extreme. Like an eyepatch!”

“An… eyepatch?” Her distaste was plain, and Yang could almost have laughed at the face she made, had the circumstances been a little less serious.

“They make nice ones these days,” Ruby told her reassuringly, squinting her eye again and covering it with her hand. “The trouble comes from seein’ things with two different kinds of vision in your eyes. So just cover up the bad one!”

“I… don’t think my father will approve…” Weiss said doubtfully. Ruby’s face screwed up in deep thought.

“The healer in Argus-- the one who makes that bruise salve, actually-- she suffered an eye injury _years_ ago, and she wears these thick… I guess they’re not really glasses. They’re more like goggles. They don’t completely fix the problem, but they do help. Maybe you could wear something similar!”

“Like a monocle?” Blake asked, looking back to Weiss. Ruby nodded.

“They’re not as scary as an eyepatch, but maybe they could level your vision out a little bit! It would make the headaches less intense, I’d think.” Ruby formed the hand over her eye into a circle, miming a monocle. “I’ve seen some pretty ones, so maybe your dad would have less of an issue with that. I could even ask Maria where she gets her eyework done, and she could point us in the right direction for that!”

“Oh,” Weiss replied, looking surprised at the idea. “I… didn’t realize a monocle could help.”

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” Yang told her encouragingly. She was relieved to see Weiss’s lips curl in a small, hopeful smile.

Despite the positivity of the meeting, Ruby looked troubled as they left the manor. She frowned into space, only stopping with a nudge from Yang.

“Somethin’ wrong, Ruby?”

“Oh! I was just… thinking. I hate that I caused a problem by bringin’ that Dust.” She said this awkwardly, unnecessarily fiddling with her poncho.

“You didn’t do nothin’,” Yang replied firmly, waving a hand in dismissal. “That’ll teach Schnee to keep secrets.”

“Yeah, but…” Ruby hesitated, her wide silver eyes bouncing from Blake to Yang. She sighed. “I guess.”

“As she said… the news would’ve leaked eventually,” Blake put in, offering Ruby a reassuring smile. “If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been something else.”

“I guess.” Ruby made a face, and Yang flicked her hat. Ruby let out a soft whine, clutching her hat to her head and mustering up the biggest glare she could manage. 

Instead of returning to the house with Ruby and Yang, Blake peeled off from them. That whole morning, Yang had been anxious to learn whether or not her message had been received by the White Fang. Now, Blake could finally check.

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” she warned Yang, giving her a quick peck. “It’s possible that Ilia stopped checking after I left.”

“I know. But if she did--”

“Then we’ll find out soon.” Blake smiled, squeezed Yang’s hand, and darted away.

“This is all happenin’ so fast,” Ruby remarked when Blake disappeared around a corner. She didn’t like their plan after Yang had explained it over breakfast that morning. It had worried her in a way driving cattle never had. Yang shrugged.

“After what happened last week, I want to get all of this straightened out as quickly as I can.”

“I s’pose…” Ruby replied, unconvinced. She hesitated. “If y’all are electin’ a council, they prob’ly won’t be happy about you talkin’ to the White Fang.”

Yang bit her lip, and nodded. It was a risk she had already considered. With any luck, she wouldn’t even need to tell the city council about any possible dealings with Sienna. She could work out some terms and do her part to uphold them without anyone else needing to know the particulars. And if it meant that the town would be safe, nobody could argue, anyway.

“I know,” she said, opening the front door of her house. Ruby slipped in ahead of her. “But we can’t waste any time with the Fang. You… you didn’t see how it was, that day.”

Yang pulled off her hat, setting it on its hook with a small frown. Ruby seemed to sense that she wasn’t finished speaking, for she took a seat at the table and looked up at her sister expectantly. 

“They just… ran through the streets. Shootin’ people, blowin’ things up… But the man that led them all…” She paused, uncomfortable with the admission. “I… I shot him. Well, I tried to. That’s what’s freakin’ me out a little about that Gravity Dust, Ruby. I think this guy must’ve used it in his sword somehow, because none of my bullets hit. I was aimin' for his head, but every single one of my bullets was stopped by his sword. Like… my bullets got sucked into it, just like the tin can got sucked up to my bullets.”

Yang couldn’t look at Ruby as she spoke. She knew Ruby was ultimately a woman of logic, and wouldn’t fault her sister for missing a shot. But the ensuing silence was painful.

“Gravity Dust… in a sword…” Ruby said after a moment, more to herself than to Yang. “I don’t… How would that work, though?”

“That’s what I’ve been wonderin’.” Yang finally looked up, relieved that there was only deep thought on Ruby’s face. There was no disappointment written there at all. “But I can’t think of anything else it mighta been.”

Ruby hummed to herself, resting one elbow on the table and setting her chin in her hand. She’d always enjoyed putting things together, whether she was masterminding a shooting demonstration or learning about the human body. Everything could be a puzzle to Ruby, and this was no different.

“He mighta coated the sword with powdered Dust,” she said slowly, thinking aloud, “but that would come off easily if he was slidin’ it in and out of a sheath.”

“He _did_ have a sheath.”

“Then that can’t be it.” Ruby’s frown deepened. “It might stay on if he’d used an oil with the Dust in it, but a lot of it prob’ly woulda stuck in the sheath, too. So I’m thinkin’ it’s gotta be in the metal itself.”

“Like… forged with Dust?” Yang asked, and Ruby nodded.

“Dust doesn’t hold like that indefinitely, though-- that’s why Light Dust shields never last long. I have no idea how long Gravity Dust lasts, but I’d guess that the effects are either temporary or the sword needs a recharge from time to time. But I have no idea how any of that works.” Ruby shook her head in irritation. “Not many people use Dust in their weapons. You’re one of the few that do, actually.”

Yang nodded vaguely, coming to take a seat beside her sister. “And bullets are different. I didn’t even think you _could _use it in somethin’ like a sword,” she agreed.

“Cinder Fall-- the bandit-- uses Fire Dust in her arrows,” Ruby pointed out. “But as far as I know, she doesn’t use those arrows more than once. She’s always makin’ new ones.”

“So I don’t get it.” Yang glowered at the table. “And I don’t like it.”

“I shoulda bought some of that Dust as a powder,” Ruby said wistfully. “I coulda run some experiments.”

“You can use some from my bullets,” Yang offered, jerking a thumb toward the box of ammo she kept near the front door. “Take ‘em apart, use the Dust from inside.”

“Oh! I… But, I bought ‘em for you…” Yet Ruby’s eyes had rounded, probably already thinking of possibilities. Yang snorted.

“They’re not much use for anything other than demonstrations. If you can figure out what Adam did, help yourself.”

“I won’t use ‘em all,” Ruby promised, already eyeing the box hungrily. “But if I can forge any of it into a weapon, maybe I can figure out how you can get around it.”

“And when Adam comes back…” Yang’s smile bared teeth. “I’ll be ready for him.”

\--

It turned out, Yang’s message to Sienna hadn’t been touched. Blake had slumped back into the house with a sigh and a shrug, and Yang fought back disappointment. It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours, she reminded herself. But it was still there when Blake checked again that night. It was still there when Blake checked the next morning.

But the morning after that, it was gone.

Nothing had been left in its place. No note, no token of acknowledgement. It was simply gone.

It took Yang a long time to fall asleep that night, worrying how the note would be received, or if it would even be passed on at all. Other worries began to crop up, as well, unrelated to her message.

“_Faunus _can’t vote,” one woman told her angrily, cornering Yang on her way to Crocea Mors.

“They can if I let them,” she replied cheerfully, trying not to let it get to her. But the woman blocked her from going forward.

“I voted for you in the election, y’know,” the woman went on, dark eyes glinting. “But the Faunus don’t know the first thing about managing a town. It would be foolish to let them have any say.”

“I… thank you, for the vote,” Yang said, trying to overcome a small stumble of awkwardness. “But this is their town, too, and they deserve a say.”

“We’re gonna end up with a council full of Faunus if we let them have a _say_.” The woman’s voice turned frigid. “Don’t make me regret votin’ for you, Yang Xiao Long.”

It was an unnerving experience, one she recounted to Weiss the following afternoon. Blake had resumed her work back at the saloon, though she was surprised to see that she wasn’t alone in visiting Weiss. Pyrrha, too, was there, shuffling comfortably around Weiss’s office.

“Not everyone voted you in for the sake of the Faunus,” Weiss replied placidly, though her blue eyes kept flickering in Pyrrha’s direction. “Most of them probably voted for you because they were threatened by the SDC in some way.”

“So what do I do?” Yang asked, arms opening in a helpless shrug. “The Faunus deserve to have a say on the council, but they won’t if they don’t even have a chance to vote.”

“Maybe…” Weiss frowned, fingers twitching nervously. Her hands looked markedly better, though they still looked sore. “I… don’t know. The people who voted you in could still impeach you if you rock the boat too much.”

“I’m not turnin' my back on the Faunus.”

“You don’t have to. Completely, anyway.” Weiss closed her eyes for a brief moment, then opened them back on Yang. “Maybe reserve a council seat for a Faunus member. Let the Faunus vote for them. But… it might be best, for now, to let the humans vote for humans.”

“But… they deserve a vote!”

“I know that,” Weiss snapped. “But you can’t risk alienating the humans, or they’ll get rid of you altogether. People won’t be as receptive to change if you turn everything upside-down right off the bat! If you--”

“Easy, sweetheart,” Pyrrha said soothingly, turning around from where she was hovering over a drawer of files. “Y’all are both on the same team here.”

It was remarkable, really, how quickly the tension slipped out of Weiss’s muscles. Every feature on her face relaxed, and Yang had to resist looking over at Pyrrha in amazement. Maybe it had something to do with the amount of time they were spending with each other now; Pyrrha was at the manor every morning and every night, helping Weiss to wash and dress and change her bandages. And there was something new, something sweet in the unguarded looks they exchanged.

“I’m… sorry,” Weiss said, sighing. “We _are _on the same team. I agree that things need to change for the Faunus, and I’m trying to help you do that. I just don’t want to risk having my father oust you before you’ve had a chance to make a difference.”

Yang nodded slowly, but it did nothing to stave off her uneasiness. “I promised the Faunus that I’d change things,” she grumbled, leaning back. “But I haven’t done a damn thing.”

“This _is _your first week,” Pyrrha commented behind her. “Cut yourself some slack.”

“But I need to do _somethin’_. If they can’t vote--”

“Start small,” Weiss told her firmly. Weeks ago, Blake had said the exact thing, and Yang scowled. “If you change _everything _during your first week in office, the townsfolk are going to resist, and they’ll fight back hard. Letting Faunus vote is a _big _change. But putting a Faunus representative on the city council is a good start.”

“And that’s it?” Yang demanded with a glower. “One Faunus representative won’t change anything.”

“It’ll make their voices heard, especially if we get some open-minded people on the council, as well,” Weiss replied evenly. “I know my Father and some of his… associates are going to run for a position. So we’ll need to encourage more people on our side to run, as well. Preferably those who are more sympathetic toward the Faunus.”

“Jaune was thinking about it,” Pyrrha added. “People respect him.”

“So we’ll need more people like Jaune,” Yang agreed. “I’ll try and come up with other names this week. But what _else_ can I do?”

“Things will go more smoothly if we ease people into equality…” Weiss looked out the window, thinking. “You could outlaw physical punishment, which you got pretty close to doing before, when you got branding outlawed.”

“Temporarily,” Yang muttered. Weiss ignored her.

“And just enforcing the law will go a long way,” she went on. “I know Father let people get away with violence towards Faunus, but you can give people strict consequences.”

“I was gonna do that anyway.”

“Which is an excellent start.”

“But it ain’t _enough_!” Frustrated, Yang leaped to her feet and crossed her arms angrily. “And I wasn’t askin’ for much, for lettin’ the Faunus vote--”

“People are going to take it as an insult, Yang. And that’s going to hurt your position.”

“How is it an insult?!”

“I’m not saying it is. But this is how a lot of people think! These are people who’ve been told, all their lives, that Faunus are only animals. People are going to compare letting them vote to… to letting a dog vote, or something. No, it’s not _logical_, but you can’t dive into people’s heads and change their opinions, no matter how hard you try.” Weiss paused, then added, in a near mumble, “As much as I wish I could sometimes.”

The meeting with Weiss had left Yang in an even worse mood than when she arrived. She slunk back toward town, wishing Blake wasn’t working. She needed guidance, and the shoes she’d been set out to fill were just too big. The list of wrongs done to the Faunus was a long one, and Yang had thought she’d had an idea of what she could do to help. Instead, her options were narrowing more and more by the day.

She was just as useless a mayor as she’d been as a sheriff.

It was easier to throw herself into manual labor. She changed into a sleeveless shirt and jumped in with the volunteer crews, who were clearing debris from what was left of the church and the town hall. It helped pass the time when Blake was working, and people seemed to find her more approachable when she was helping them sort through rubble.

“Are we gonna be able to rebuild 'em soon?” a young man asked as they stooped to pick up what seemed to be most of a wooden beam. “The town hall and the church?”

“That’ll depend on what the council says,” Yang replied, arm muscles visibly straining with the effort. It must have been one of the supporting beams; it was heavier than she’d thought. She was relieved when a couple other people came over to help. “I can’t make any major financial decisions till they’re elected. But hopefully, we can soon.”

“It was such a nice building,” one woman said wistfully, darting over to help with the beam. “And the church had such pretty stained glass.”

“At least all of that can be replaced,” someone replied sadly. Yang looked up, sweat dripping into her eyes, at a middle-aged man across from her. “But nothin’s bringin’ my brother back.”

Yang swallowed heavily, then nodded. Lives had been lost during that Faunus attack. It would be her duty to ensure it never happened to anyone else.

It was still early evening, and still very hot, when Yang straightened, pressing a hand against her lower back. Hard work made her feel a _little _better. It helped take her mind off of her worries over the Faunus, albeit for a short time. She pulled her bandana out of her pocket, mopping her forehead of sweat.

When she turned, a smile broke across her face. Blake was standing in the street, waiting for her with a little smirk.

“Shit, I thought you were still at work,” Yang called out, darting over.

“I’m on break. Someone said you were over here.”

“Figured I should be doin' _something_, y’know?”

“Mhm.” Blake’s eyes skidding over Yang’s biceps, still coated in a sheen of sweat. “Well, don’t stop on my account.”

Yang burst out laughing, gathering Blake into her arms for a sweaty embrace. Automatically, Blake made a small squawk of protest, but didn’t try to push Yang off. She accepted her fate, giving her a small kiss that Yang returned eagerly. One hand went to Blake’s cheek, soft despite the fervor of her lips.

“I could eat you up,” Yang murmured softly when they broke apart, though still close enough to feel Blake’s breath on her lips.

“I might just let you,” Blake replied with an amused twitch of her lips.

Blake wasn’t able to stay long, but her presence rejuvenated Yang, who returned to work with a lighter step. She even forgot to feel tired as she helped heave a long plank into a cart of salvageable wood, knowing Blake had lingered just long enough to watch for another minute.

“That’s sick,” someone muttered, and Yang’s eyes shot up, threateningly crimson. But she didn’t see who’d said it. She took a deep breath, forcing her temper back under the surface.

“If you think it was so sick,” she said, almost conversationally, though her muscles were still tensed with more than just exertion, “don’t fuckin’ watch next time.”

\--

It was understandable, that Blake wouldn’t be happy when Yang recounted her conversation with Weiss. The expression on her face darkened with a growing, suppressed anger as she changed into a nightshirt.

“But you’re _mayor_ now,” she protested, cramming her arms into the sleeves with more force than necessary. “You’ve already been elected. It should be all downhill from here.”

“That’s not what Weiss thinks,” Yang replied glumly. She pulled back the blanket and plopped onto the bed, though she didn’t lay down yet. “She wants us to take baby steps. She’s worried I’ll get impeached or something.”

“But what _she _suggests is hardly doing anything at all! It’s not like we’re ordering humans to let Faunus live in their houses or anything. We just want them to _vote_.”

“Which is too controversial, apparently.” Yang ran a hand through her hair impatiently. “There’s just no winning in this fuckin’ town. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

Blake softened visibly as she sat beside Yang. She wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, and Yang leaned her head on her shoulder.

“I still feel like all of this is a big mistake,” she told Blake quietly. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’, and one wrong move could ruin it all. I want to make a difference for y’all, but at the same time…”

Blake ran her hand up and down Yang’s side comfortingly. “I know you’re doing what you can,” she said. “And I’m not angry with you, or with Weiss. I can… understand, to a degree. But we can’t hold ourselves back. You can afford to push people a little more now. _They _elected _you_. You don’t have to change everything over night, but you can take some risks. Because it’ll be a lot harder when there’s a council holding you back.”

“God, if Schnee’s elected to the council, I’m fucked,” Yang groaned, flopping backward into the pillow. Blake eased herself down beside her and curled against Yang’s body.

“One step at a time, baby,” Blake murmured, fingers combing through Yang’s yellow curls. “One step at a time.”

\--

Though daily routine in Mantle returned to something resembling normalcy, it felt busier and louder than ever.

Yang was pulling double-duty as both mayor and sheriff, though having Ruby assist as a deputy helped. Like many other city positions, the role of sheriff would be reconsidered after the council had been elected. It made more sense to have more than one person decide who would be sheriff, or judge, or the other positions Yang was still struggling to learn about. It could so easily turn into another case of the nepotism Schnee had loved so much.

But even appointing Ruby came with angry grumblings from the city’s elite.

“Of _course _she’d pick her sister to be a deputy,” someone said on the street, making sure they were loud enough for Yang to hear. She’d come so close to breaking then, to charging up to them and listing off Ruby’s qualifications, but Blake had set a firm hand on her forearm. Yang had to let the issue go.

There were enough problems with people campaigning for the council spots. A whole slew of people were throwing their names into the election, and soon, the streets were clogged with candidates making promises, or calling out to passersby, or generally making their voices heard. Some of the more dedicated candidates hung signs up around town, and Ruby got onto more than one person for painting their names on the sides of buildings.

As expected, Schnee was at the forefront, making speeches and lofty promises. Yang was dismayed by the size of his following; many of the people who’d voted for her liked the idea of Schnee on council. His stance on social issues appealed to those who had a problem with Yang’s push for Faunus liberties. Though he didn’t outright say he would hold her back, Yang caught the implication.

“He’ll try to push the Faunus representative off the council,” she told Weiss, exasperated. “Or just… keep them on, but not let 'em contribute.”

“Even if he’s elected to the council, it doesn’t mean he can single-handedly do that,” Weiss replied calmly. “There will be other members, too.”

“But who knows if they’ll be on our side?!”

“We have to _try_, Yang.”

And Weiss did, in a way Yang didn’t expect: she decided to run for treasurer.

“I have a better idea of the town’s finances than even my father does,” Weiss said one night, to a loosely-gathered group of people at Crocea Mors. “If I’m voted in as treasurer, I’ll be transparent about the budget and our expenditures. You’ll know exactly what our funds are, and what we do with them. It’s more than my father has ever given you.”

Opposing her father directly was a risky move, and Yang feared for how he would react to what she was saying. She told Pyrrha so, who nodded agreeably.

“I’ve been stayin’ with her the past couple of nights,” Pyrrha explained, voice softening with reassurance. “He won’t do anything while I’m around.”

“But you can’t stay there forever.”

“Which is why she’s also workin’ on paintin' it in a different light for him,” Pyrrha went on, a ghost of a smile playing at her lips. “It’s pretty likely that Schnee’s gonna get elected. If Weiss gets elected for treasurer, that puts two Schnees on the council. He’ll see it as a win. For now, at least, and it’ll give us time to plan our next move.”

It was a start, Yang supposed. But her new title of mayor came with too many of those _starts_, and not enough _results_.

“So… stayin’ at the manor, huh?” Yang asked, attempting to switch to something lighter. “How’s that goin’?”

“Well… Schnee _tolerates _me,” Pyrrha replied with a small chuckle. “He doesn’t like that Weiss is dealin’ with us workin’ class folk, but he did say I’ve got good manners.”

Yang snorted. “He’s never told _me_ that.”

“Yang, darlin, that’s ‘cause you got none.”

Both women laughed, loudly enough to draw Blake’s attention from where she was serving drinks to a small table. She looked up, eyebrow arching and ear flicking with questioning amusement. Yang waved, and Blake rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

“So, uh, are you and Weiss…?” Yang asked, grin beginning to spread. She didn’t need to finish her question. A faint blush rose to Pyrrha’s cheeks.

“Well…” Pyrrha began, but fate intervened in the form of Nora.

“Break’s over, Pyrrha! Quit yakkin’ with Yang and get _over_ here!” she bellowed, and Pyrrha was too quick to hop off her stool.

“I’m sorry!” she called out, then gave Yang a wink. “I s’pose that’s for later.”

Yang groaned, then grabbed her mug and took a deep swig, the atmosphere setting heavily around her once more. It was like Pyrrha took the light-heartedness of their conversation with her, leaving Yang alone with her worried thoughts.

With Blake closing the saloon that night, Yang walked home alone. She wished she could have bottled up a little of the bright, boisterous energy of the saloon; the streets were lonely and dim. She jammed her hands in her pockets, trying to think of anything _but _the stresses of her new job. But as is the way of stress, it always had a way of weaseling its way into her mind.

Two Schnees on the council would look suspicious to the townsfolk, and she could only hope people could look past the last name. Weiss had already done so much to undermine her father, after all. Still, the last name carried a lot of weight, and Schnee would undoubtedly try to undermine Weiss’s authority with it. Things could get real messy, real quick.

At least Ruby was home to distract her. The minute Yang closed the door behind her, Ruby bounced over to her from the cookstove, waving two long slips of paper over her head.

“We’re goin’ to Argus!” she trilled before Yang had even taken off her gunbelt.

“I can’t leave town now!” Yang stared at Ruby, bewildered by the sudden decision, but her sister only shook her head.

“Not _you_. Me and Weiss! Right after the election! We’re gonna go to Argus and get somethin' for her eye.” Ruby pointed to her own eye, as if it had slipped Yang’s mind as to what an eye was. 

“Does _she _know y’all are goin’?” Yang asked, bemused as she hung her hat on its hook.

“Well, yeah!” Ruby laughed. “She paid for the tickets. We’re gonna have, like, a best-friend trip!”

“Best friends, huh?” Yang asked, trying to suppress a smile. “That was fast.”

“Well, _maybe _she hasn’t figure it out herself yet, but she will.” Ruby nodded sagely, slamming the tickets onto the table. “On our _best-friend trip_!”

Yang shook her head, but stopped when she took a deep sniff. “It smells like somethin’s burning.”

Ruby scowled. “Shut up, I’m just lettin’ it sit for a minute.”

Skeptically, Yang crossed over to the cookstove, where it looked like Ruby had been attempting to fry up some mix of vegetables and beef. The vegetables were starting to blacken. “Yeah, they’re burnin’.”

“_Shit_.” Ruby darted back over to the cookstove, shoving Yang out of the way with a mournful moan. “I’m just as bad as Blake!”

\--

It was past midnight by the time Blake got home from work. Yang hadn’t quite managed to fall to sleep; she’d only managed a fitful half-doze that she woke from abruptly when she heard the bedroom door open.

“You should be sleeping,” Blake said disapprovingly. Yang pushed herself up onto her elbows and smiled sleepily.

“I can’t have any good dreams without you,” she replied, putting just enough of a whine into her tone so as to sound pitiful. Blake chuckled.

Yang sank back into the blankets as Blake changed, watching shamelessly as she unbuttoned her blouse and stepped out of her skirts. Blake only turned back once, to raise an eyebrow and blush prettily.

“You shouldn’t stare at a lady while she’s changing,” she remarked mildly, pulling her nightshirt over her head.

“Why not?”

“It’s improper.”

“Good thing I’m not very proper, then.”

This made Blake laugh, and Yang grinned stupidly as Blake tucked herself in beside her. But the smile faded when she saw Blake’s expression morph into something more serious, lines sharpening on her face as she handed a small, rolled-up slip of paper to Yang.

“What’s this?”

“Your reply.”

For a moment, Yang stared at Blake, not comprehending. Slowly, she unrolled the paper, eyes scanning over the handwriting quickly. It was a neat, elegant script, wasting little time on embellishments. There was no signature, but it was immediately clear who the message was from.

_Yang Xiao Long,_

_This is not the first time a human has requested to speak with the High Leader. Many times in the past, we have attempted to treat with humans and have been met with nothing more than hostility. We have heard how you attempted to put an end to some of the atrocities committed against our people, but you continued to execute them without a fair trial. That is unforgivable._

_We have learned, too, of your association with our sister Blake Belladonna. Some sources accuse you of leading her astray and using her as little more than a Faunus plaything _(at this, Yang balled her hand into a white-knuckled fist), _though this claim has been refuted by a number of Faunus from Mantle itself. A number of them have spoken in defense of you, and many of them have pledged their support to your position as Mayor._

_It is for these Faunus, and not for you, that we are willing to send a representative from the White Fang to speak with you and Blake Belladonna. We will judge for ourselves, though we promise nothing. Above all, the White Fang serves the Faunus, and any agreement made will be for their benefit, not yours._

_Do not forget that._

At the bottom of the paper were scrawled hasty instructions, in a different handwriting. Yang frowned at it, then looked up at Blake.

“What’s ‘cactus hill’?” Yang asked.

“It’s a meeting place.” Blake hesitated. “It was... one of the places I’d meet Adam. When I was still with the Fang.”

“Oh.” Yang’s stomach dropped a little at the reminder of Blake’s past. She pushed past it. “But we don’t have any hills around here.”

“It’s not really a hill,” Blake replied, giving a miniscule shrug. “It’s like a… giant mound of prickly pear cactus. It’s tall enough that it’s like a little hill. But I know where it is.”

“Good,” Yang breathed. “‘Cause we’re meeting ‘em on election night.”

\--

Election day for the city council was only slightly less chaotic than it had been for the mayoral election. Schnee had somehow gotten ahold of the voting machines from Argus, which automated the process. Still, the amount of candidates was almost too much for the machines to handle. More than once, the things stopped working. People stood in line for a long time, grumbling while they waited for someone to fix the machines. It made for a slow process to an already slow day.

Yang found herself looking at the clock more than usual. That night, they’d find out about who would run the city with her. That night, the town’s fate would be sealed, in more ways than one.

“Stop fidgeting,” Blake told her quietly as they surveyed the voting queues. “It isn’t helping.”

“I hate standin' around,” Yang muttered, though she dropped her arms. For the past ten minutes, she’d been rolling up her shirt sleeves, straightening them out again, and rerolling them.

She hadn’t liked the look Schnee had given her when he’d emerged from the voting booth. He’d singled her out in the crowd, his white mustache lifting in a smirk. He looked so smug, so triumphant, that Yang had clenched her jaw. She’d had half a mind to storm off, but he would see that as yet another victory.

Away from the main crowd, a single voting booth had been set aside for Faunus use. They would vote only for their own representative, and Yang had tried to ignore the sting of the disappointed looks that many of the Faunus gave her.

It seemed like _everyone _was looking at her wrong that day.

She felt nails lightly scratching at her back, and Yang leaned a little more against Blake. Blake’s touch offered more relief than any amount of fidgeting ever could.

“Just relax,” she murmured as she traced circles around Yang’s back. “This part will be over soon, and then we’ll know what we’re up against.”

Try as she might, she _couldn’t_ relax. Slowly, they circled around the crowd. As mayor, it was important to make herself seen, at least for a little while. She spoke to people when they called to her, and it was all Yang could do to concentrate on the conversations without losing her train of thought. The election would have been worrying enough on its own, but that night, she would meet with a representative of the White Fang.

She felt like a solid bundle of nerves.

“They’d probably prefer you to be unarmed,” Blake told her when they got back to the house. Yang opened her mouth in protest, but Blake shook her head with an amused smile. “But it would be wiser to bring the guns.”

“Good,” Yang replied gruffly, pulling her hat off. “'Cause I’m not leaving ‘em behind.”

“They’ll probably have scouts there with the representative. But don’t go for your guns unless someone actively threatens you.”

“They’re expectin’ a lotta trust from me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I highly doubt they’ll try to kill you right off the bat,” Blake offered. “I’m guessing they’re curious about this whole thing. I’m sure Adam’s been telling them one thing, but if some of the Mantle Faunus are vouching for you, they probably don’t know who to believe. So they’ll talk to you before killing you.”

“Thanks, that makes me feel so much better,” Yang said dryly. She plunked in the chair, flopping her head down onto the tabletop. “I just hate waiting.”

Behind her, Blake leaned forward, arms going around Yang’s shoulders. She kissed the spot behind one of Yang’s ears, her breath warm.

“I’ll be with you the whole time. I won’t leave your side, even for a minute.”

Yang twisted her head, to look up into Blake’s eyes. She had such beautiful eyes. Yang snaked a hand around her head, pulling her in for a kiss. Blake’s ears perked up, then relaxed as her lips sank against Yang’s mouth.

“Thanks, babe,” Yang said softly. “I’m gonna need you tonight, more than ever.”

The hours trudged by at a snail’s pace. The house was quiet without Ruby around; she had gone to the manor to visit Weiss. They would be leaving for Argus early the next morning, and Ruby had somehow charmed her way into spending the night. Distantly, Yang wondered how Jacques would feel about it, but if he was in a good mood over his presumed victory, he might not even care.

Slowly, the sun crawled across the sky. Sunsets in the desert were always so wide and beautiful, but its beauty was lost to Yang that evening. She was ready for the dark, for the stars, and all the unknowns they would bring.

It was late when Blake led Yang out of the house and away from the town. The “cactus hill” was about a mile outside of town, and while Yang might have ordinarily complained about walking through the desert, it was different at night. The air was cool, and the desert wilds were more peaceful than Mantle itself ever could be. She and Blake wound around mesquite and cacti and thorny plants, kicking the occasional rock. The walk helped release her nervous energy, though her head snapped around at any suggestion of noise.

Blake seemed to know the path well. She guided Yang in what felt like a random direction, though it was anything but. Yang had to wonder how many times she’d taken this trail, alone, knowing that there would be fists and threats when she got it its end. It had to be strange, walking this way once more.

“We’re almost there,” Blake told her, looking over to meet Yang’s eyes. “You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

What Blake had referred to as _cactus hill_ was a lot less exciting than Yang had thought it would be. Calling it a hill, even in jest, was too generous. It was simply a large, wide swathe of prickly pear cactus, rising from the ground in a hefty clump. To someone born in a flat desert with no knowledge of what a hill actually was, Yang supposed the name _could _work.

It was the wrong time of year for the cactus to bear fruit, but in the moonlight, Yang could make out the flat shape of its pads, needles jutting out in all directions. Even if it wasn’t a hill, it was a monster of a cactus.

All around them were mesquite and other cacti, providing plenty of cover to anyone who wanted to sneak around. Visibility was limited, and it was worrying. Yang narrowed her eyes, resisting the urge to draw her weapons. She would have felt better with her guns in her hands, but she didn’t want to screw things up with the White Fang before she’d even started.

“D’you see anything?” she asked lowly, but Blake shook her head.

“Nothing.”

“Would they stand us up, y’think?”

“Doubt it.” Slowly, Blake’s head turned to take in all of their surroundings. They were sitting ducks if the White Fang decided to ambush them instead of talk. The whole situation screamed _danger_, but there was nothing she could do about it.

Minutes passed, marked only by their breaths. The broken moon above shone with all its brightness, but it left too many shadows. The White Fang would know how to take advantage of shadows.

“Yang Xiao Long,” a voice greeted them.

Yang jerked her head around, and she was ashamed of how long it took to make out the lone figure in the darkness. They were dressed all in black, a cloak pulled over their face. Even the skin of their hands was dark. Again, Yang kept her hands away from her holsters. She held them up, to show that they were empty. That she’d come in peace.

“That’s me,” Yang replied evenly. This was just another showdown. She took a deep breath in, and released it. “Might I know who I’m addressin’?”

There was a pause as the figure considered. Their head tilted.

“It’s probably best that you don’t,” they told them. The voice was low, almost sultry with a hint of wildness. A woman, as far as Yang could tell. “Identities are on a need-to-know basis.”

“Fair enough.” Yang inclined her head respectfully. “Thanks for meetin’ me here tonight.”

“I’d say the same, but that wouldn’t be true,” the figure said. Out of the corner of Yang’s eye, she sensed some of the nearby shadows shifting, and hairs prickled on the back of her neck. More than anything, she longed for her guns. She _knew _that the White Fang representative wouldn’t have come alone, but she didn’t relish the idea of being surrounded.

“Now, where’s the courtesy in that?” she asked, more lightly than she felt. She was encouraged by the way Blake reached her hand down to twine with her own. “I’ve been lookin’ forward to this meeting since I sent that first message.”

“And let’s get it over with quickly. It’s dangerous to meet out in the open like this. So let’s cut to the chase.” The figure’s head turned slightly, now looking at Blake. With the movement, something shiny on the speaker’s face caught in the moonlight. “I never had the chance to meet you in person, Blake Belladonna, but you were esteemed in the White Fang. It surprises me, to see you running with humans.”

“I’ve learned a lot about humans in the months I’ve been here,” Blake acknowledged. She squeezed Yang’s hand. “They don’t deserve the treatment Adam Taurus is so keen to give them. Not all of them, anyway.”

“I see.” But the voice didn’t sound convinced. “You _know _Mantle is hell on Remnant for Faunus.”

“Which is what Yang is trying to change,” Blake replied, eyes narrowed slightly. “She isn’t Schnee. That’s why she’s wanted to meet with you. To see what she can do to help us. And she isn’t the only one; there’s plenty of other folks in town who don’t agree with his treatment.”

“Yet none of them have ever helped us. None of them have shown even the slightest bit of interest.” The figure’s head focused on Yang again. “Even the sympathetic ones only act in their own best interest. It’s easy, to put on this whole dog-and-pony-show, to go as far as to talk to us, just so you could say that you did. To pat yourself on the back and say you tried, while our people continue to suffer. Why should I believe that you _actually _want to make any changes?”

“Because this treatment ain’t right,” Yang said, leaning forward a little. “I put an ending the brandings when I was sheriff, and it was somethin’ that lasted for a while. It prob'ly woulda lasted longer if Adam hadn’t killed an autotrain full of innocent people.”

“_Innocent _might be a stretch.” The speaker paused, then added, “though the High Leader did not condone the way the situation was handled. Violence of that caliber was unnecessary, but it does little to change the fact that you still did nothing for the Faunus when the brandings resumed.”

“What was I s’posed to do?” Yang asked. She brought her free arm up in a shrug. “If I made a stand then, it woulda done nothin’ for the Faunus, and my own ass would be run outta town.”

“You executed Faunus on trumped-up crimes.”

“And what woulda happened if I’d tried to break 'em out?” Yang demanded, unable to hold back the heat from her tone. “Schnee woulda fired me and he woulda found someone else to do the job instead. At least I could let ‘em die with a little dignity. If one of Schnee’s men had been executioner, it woulda been a shitshow. They don’t show no respect to the condemned, or their bodies.”

Blake’s palm was sweaty in Yang’s hand. Hell, maybe it was her own sweat. But there was strength in Blake’s hand, and it kept her grounded.

“But we managed to sway a whole town to my side. We forced an election and we _won_. I’m in a position to make changes now, and that’s why I wanted to talk to y’all. I want peace, just like you, and I’m willin’ to do whatever I gotta do to earn that.” She swallowed against her dry throat, the gulp almost painful. “I know the world’s been cruel to y’all. I’ve been blind to it, and I can see that now. I’m not excusin’ it. The things Blake tells me… it makes me angry with myself, for not doin’ more. I’ve got the reputation. I coulda made a difference, at least a little. But now I _know _I can, and I wanna do everything I can to make things right.”

Yang didn’t mean for her words to come out so impassioned, treading a line that could’ve been mistaken for anger. But then Blake gave her a sidelong look. There was a softness in her eerie, golden gaze, and her lip curled in a small smile. She squeezed Yang’s hand again.

For a moment, the figure was silent, looking from Yang, to Blake, then back to Yang. Blake frowned at the figure, ears flattening and squinting her eyes, as if trying to see _into _the shadowy form , but then they spoke again, wary.

“You love Blake Belladonna. A Faunus.”

Yang jerked her head once, a fervent nod. “I do.”

“Even though people know what she is now.”

“‘Course I do.”

Yang and the cloaked Faunus stood for another moment, staring hard at each other. At least, the Faunus did; Yang couldn’t see anything beyond the occasional sparkle that twinkled out from under the cloak. So Yang pretended to, pretending the sparkle was an eye that she could stare at. It was the best she could do.

“End the brandings and the whippings,” the figure said.

“Done,” Yang replied.

“No executions for petty crimes.”

“Done.”

“The Faunus will have all the rights that a human has-- owning businesses, property, no restrictions on places they can visit and no curfews. A right to vote.”

“I can do that.” She said it without missing a beat. These were things she _would _make happen, her council be damned.

“Faunus children will attend school.”

“Yes.” Already, Yang suspected she’d face backlash from some of the townsfolk, but it would be worth it. Everyone deserved an education, Faunus or no.

“End the indentures.”

At this, Yang couldn’t respond. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, though no words came out. She _wanted _to promise this. She wished she could.

“I… I can’t do that.”

“Then there’s no deal.”

“It’s… it’s a contract. I can’t terminate those. Those are business arrangements that have nothin’ to do with the law.”

“Are Faunus nothing more than business arrangements to you?”

“W-what?!” Yang stammered. “Of-- of course not!”

“Then find a way to end the indentures, or I’ve got nothing else to say to you.”

Whatever shined beneath the cloak twinkled mockingly as the woman turned away. Panicked, Yang looked down at Blake, whose face hardened.

“Sienna, wait.”

The figure froze, then turned back to them. A shock of cold ran up Yang’s spine, making her shiver, but Blake’s hold on her hand tightened.

“Sienna?” Yang whispered. She heard the cloaked figure sigh.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t recognize me,” she said heavily, tugging the hood off. It was a jewel on the woman’s forehead that had been winking at her, and that was the first thing Yang was able to notice. It took a few seconds for Yang to register the large catlike ears on her head, both adorned with golden rings. Even on her human ones, large gold hoops dangled. She was elegant. Regal. Deadly.

“Of course I do,” Blake replied, managing a wan smile. “I’ve seen you speak before. You’re not someone I’d forget.”

One of Sienna’s dark eyebrows arched impassively. “I’m glad I made an impression.”

“I didn’t think you’d come out here for something like this,” Blake remarked, cocking a head toward Yang. “I thought you were sending a representative.”

“I was going to,” Sienna replied, sounding almost bored. “But I’ve been curious to see this mess for myself. This isn’t a situation that happens every day, Blake Belladonna. Faunus don’t just leave the White Fang, particularly for a human. And the things you both have done since then… I’ve been intrigued.”

“I’m glad we made an impression,” Yang muttered, and Blake let go of her hand to elbow her in the side.

“My requests still stand,” Sienna said firmly, eyes narrowing to slits as she stared at Yang once more. “I will guarantee nothing until you end the indentures.”

“Yang is giving you everything else,” Blake protested. “This is the one thing she has no control over.”

“Being with the humans has made you soft, Blake Belladonna,” Sienna said coldly. “For you to give up so easily.”

Blake took a step forward, teeth bared and ears flattening against her head. The golden rings of her irises narrowed with her rage. “How _dare _you.”

“I’ll figure it out!”

Both the Faunus women turned to Yang, both visibly stunned by the outburst. Every nerve in Yang’s body felt like it stood out against her skin, thousands upon thousands of painful, hot pinpricks.

“I’ll need time, but I’m gonna _try _to figure out how to end the indentures,” Yang promised, her heart pounding against her skull and her chest and in every blood vessel she had. She took a deep breath, willing those vessels to _relax_. “I’ll figure it out. But this ain’t an easy request. Give me time to work it out, and I swear to the gods themselves, I’ll do everything in my power to end the indentures.”

“Yang,” Blake said warningly, but Yang held out a hand to Sienna. She looked at it haughtily, and Yang’s stomach dropped in anticipation of refusal.

And then she grabbed Yang’s hand, jerking it up and down once in a shake, accepting the promise. “If it was easy, then the White Fang wouldn’t exist,” she replied. “I’ll give you some time, but we’ll hold you to this.”

“No attacks,” Yang told her, tightening her grip and leaning in. Sienna met her eyes squarely, the jewel glittering blood-red.

“No attacks,” she agreed. “I’ll give you three months, Yang Xiao Long. If you’ve made no progress, the deal is off.”

“Deal.” Slowly, their clasped hands rose and fell once more. Sienna’s mouth twitched in a cold smile as her eyes roamed Yang’s face, calculating.

“Let’s see if humans are capable of keeping promises,” she remarked, then released Yang’s hand.

“We are,” Yang replied, returning Sienna’s smile with one of her own. She even tipped her hat to the woman. “You’ll see.”

Sienna pulled her head up, and all around her, the shadows of the Faunus that had surrounded them began to melt away, fading into the darkness. Yang didn’t even hear their footsteps as they disappeared.

“Yang,” Blake asked in a hurried whisper. “What have you done?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Yang repeated, pulling her hat up to wipe at the sweat that had gathered under its band. “There’s gotta be a way, and I’ll find it out.”

“And if you’re wrong, then the town’s gonna eat you alive.”

Yang said nothing to that. She only stared at the place where Sienna had slipped away behind the harsh desert flora. It was like the High Leader of the White Fang was capable of appearing and disappearing at will, and it was unnerving.

“I’ll figure it out. At the very least, I’ve bought us a few months. We’ll be safe for a little while longer.”

“This is a promise you won’t be able to keep, Yang.”

“Well, I’m gonna try,” Yang said firmly, pushing her hat back down. “Sienna will see that a human _can _keep their promise.”

But she never saw Sienna alive again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big milestone for this fic! We've past the 100k words point. Big thanks to everyone sticking around so far. This fic is far from over (we've got Big Angst(TM) on the horizon!), but I'll take a moment here to thank y'all for all the encouragement, comments, messages, kudos, and general good vibes. I haven't written a fic like this before, so I was a little worried about how it would be received, but I'm so glad you've stuck with me so far!
> 
> Big thank to Aziminil, for saving my sanity with her beta-ing, but also for breathing Monocle Weiss in to existence.
> 
> Also, 'tis the eve of V7... I am EXCITE. Merry RWBY Eve, y'all!


	11. Chapter 11

Blake didn’t say a word to Yang as they made the trek back to town, seemingly lost in thought. At first, Yang thought she was just trying to process everything that had happened. It was a lot, and even Yang needed a few minutes to reflect. Yet with each step, Blake moved further ahead, her feet hitting the ground a little harder, and Yang began to sense the anger rolling off Blake in hot waves, loud in its silence.

It was directed at _her_, Yang realized with a shocked pang. Blake was angry at _her_.

She couldn’t recall Blake being truly angry with her before. Not even when she found Blake in the autotrain, when she’d called Yang a _sellout_, had she seen anger like this. In opposition to Blake’s hot fury, a cold dread had seeped through Yang’s blood, clotting in her stomach and making her queasy. At first, she’d hoped the anger had been directed toward Sienna, but Blake walked firmly ahead of Yang, not looking at her, not reaching for her hand. She said nothing.

There was only hard, brutal silence.

Yang wanted to apologize, but didn’t know how. She wasn’t even fully certain _why_, but there was something too painful in the way Blake refused to look at her. The thought of Blake being angry, and at _her_, filled Yang with a near panic that she had no idea how to resolve.

So she said nothing. She kept her back straight and her head up, as if nothing was wrong at all. She was good at that. Maybe it was all in her head, she told herself. It was entirely possible she was imagining Blake’s anger. Or it _was_ Sienna that this anger was directed at.

But why wouldn’t Blake look at her?

“Well, that was excitin’,” Yang said when they got back home. Maybe, if she pretended everything was normal, it really would be. Blake-- _finally_\-- turned to face Yang, eyes narrowed into slits. So, maybe everything _wasn’t _normal.

“How could you do that?” Blake demanded. She was nearly _quivering _with rage, and that cold fear in Yang’s stomach spread its tendrils into her lungs.

“I…” Yang began, then swallowed. Just like that, the wind had been knocked out of her. Swagger gone and confidence broken, she only stared at Blake in bewilderment. “I don’t-- what?”

Blake let out a slow exhale, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead in a bid for patience. “Yang,” she said, _sounding _like she was struggling to keep a rein on her temper. “You just made the White Fang a promise that you have no control over.”

“I can, though!”

“Really, Yang?” Blake asked, scowl deepening. “Do you honestly believe that?”

Back at that mound of cactus, Yang had almost convinced herself. In the desert, her guns on her hips, she was invincible. She was triumphant. Out there, she could convince herself of anything. The desert was her home. In the desert, she was the cattle driver she used to be, the gunslinger. If anyone could put an end to the indentures, it would be her.

Yet when Blake looked at her like that, that idea seemed more hopeless than ever before.

“We _could_,” she insisted, but Blake glowered at her.

“Are you lying to me, or yourself?”

“Why are you so mad about it?” Yang asked hotly, turning away to jam her hat on its hook. Anything to look away from that anger. “I’m doin’ what we set out to do.”

“And it’ll all be for nothing!” Blake snapped. “Schnee might not be mayor anymore, but he can still out-muscle you when it comes to the SDC. He’s gonna laugh in your face if you try to dissolve his contracts, and you might even lose your position if you try. Breaking a promise to the White Fang will mean it isn’t just _us_ that loses credibility, but all humans! They’ll never support us again!”

“She wasn’t gonna help us anyway!”

“And when you fail, they’re _all _going to use it as an excuse to keep hating humans!” Blake drew in a jagged breath. “I want peace, just as much as you. I’ve spent _years_ trying to achieve that. And living in Mantle has shown me that there are still humans that are _good_, but that promise you made to Sienna is going to set us back!”

“But I’m in a position where I can _help _now! I’m the mayor, for godsake!”

“Yeah, and as mayor, you can _help_. By working _with _me, not _above _me. Which was _not _what you did tonight. You just went and made a hugedecision without even checking with me first! I know the Fang. We could’ve figured something out, but then you had to open your big mouth and make a promise you can’t keep.”

Yang stared, and for a moment, she wasn’t even capable of thinking. Blake’s words pierced her as hard as any bullet. Her mind blurred.

“If we want this to work,” Blake added after a brief pause, voice low and restrained, “you need to work _with _me. This isn’t one of those epic stories you tell in saloons. This isn’t about you working a miracle and saving the day, because that isn’t going to happen, not with the Fang, and not with the Faunus. We need to be smart. We need to be _united_. Because what you did tonight was _not_ that. Out there, you acted like it was all about you. But it’s about _Faunus_. It’s about _all _of us.”

“I…” Yang looked down at the floor, trying to find an argument and failing. She couldn’t argue, because Blake was right. She grasped desperately at vague threads of thought-- she’d bought them peace, she’d done what they set out to do, she _did_ it-- but all of them were too weak to hold. She’d disregarded Blake out there.

How did this make her any better than Schnee?

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she murmured. Blake only nodded stiffly, and turned away.

Dumbly, Yang managed to pull off her gunbelt, though she couldn’t actually remember the action of unbuckling, of hanging the belt up. She could only remember the weight of it in her hands, and that somehow, her heart felt heavier.

She needed air.

She wasn’t aware if Blake watched her go; she couldn’t bring herself to look. She pushed her way back out the door, loosening the bandana around her neck. It felt constricting, like a noose of its own. She clenched it in her fist as she walked, unconsciously, toward the stable. Sun and Sage were long gone, giving her the quiet she needed.

How had she screwed up so badly? She staggered, catching herself on Bumblebee’s stall. Deep in her soul, she knew she wasn’t meant for this sort of responsibility. It hadn't even been two weeks since she'd been elected, and she’d already risked the town’s safety in a moment of pride. She was no mayor. She was hardly even a sheriff. She was a jumped-up cattle driver, with no sense and no tact. 

There was a huff as Bumblebee approached her, curious about her late-night visitor. On instinct, Yang reached a hand out, pressing her palm against Bumblebee’s velvety nose. Her breath was warm, familiar, comforting.

She should have stayed a cattle driver, Yang thought dully. The solitary work had been more her style. That’s what she was truly made for. On the range, it was only her and a handful of others. She hadn’t needed to worry about anything beyond getting the herd to Vale. She could have basked in the glory of her own tales, immortalizing herself as a famous gunslinger. Nobody would have relied on her, and she would have been happier for it. She could have just skimmed her way through life. It all could have been so much more simple.

Here, she was an imposter. It was something Raven had recognized the minute she’d found her bandit camp, all those years ago. Her mother took one look at Yang, Summer’s guns hanging off her hip, and sneered.

_You carry those things around like a badge of honor, but you weren’t the one who earned ‘em._

It had stung more than Yang had ever cared to admit, and ever since, she had tried to wring the truth out of those words by becoming the best gunslinger on Remnant. Yet now, years after the fact, Raven’s words still haunted her. Logically, Yang knew that she had a right to wear the guns. She was the best gunslinger in Remnant now. But to Raven, she’d been a fraud, and that feeling was the same one that now coiled around her heart. Only now it was different. Now it was Blake who recognized her for the imposter she was, and it hurt infinitely more.

The Faunus deserved more than what Yang could give. _Blake _deserved more.

Yang’s breathing came out unevenly, and she braced her hands against the stall door, hunching over in defeat. In the space between herself and the door, a tear fell, and then another. They looked foreign as they dropped to the floor. Her whole face felt hot, but she didn’t break into sobs. She only watched, silent and detached, as each one fell into the dirt.

“Yang?”

She swallowed, trying to clear the tightness of her throat. She didn’t turn around to face Blake. She straightened herself up and, using her thumb and forefinger, she discreetly pressed at the inner corners of her eyes, as if she could push the tears back.

“Yeah?” she asked, surprised at her own calm.

Footsteps behind her, but Yang still didn’t turn. She stared fixedly at the hand that leaned against the stall, bandana still clutched there. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“I… was a little harsh, back there,” Blake said softly. “I didn’t mean for it to come out so badly.”

“It’s all right.” Her voice rasped, and there was a slight hitch to her voice. She cleared her throat, and shrugged a shoulder. “You weren’t wrong.”

For a moment, Blake said nothing. The tightness had returned to Yang’s throat, so she breathed slowly through her nose, which felt swollen. But Blake’s hand never left her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she asked at last.

“Yeah.”

She willed Blake to leave, wanting to be left alone. Usually, it was so easy, for her ego to boost her up, to keep her aloof of all the emotions that tried to drag her down below. She could float above it all, when she had her reputation and her charisma to buoy her, but it was the equivalent of treading water. Without any of that, she was left to drown.

“Can you look at me?” Blake asked quietly. Yang shrugged, the gesture feeling stupid.

“I’m… sorry,” Yang said, voice pitched low. It hurt to speak. “I fucked up.”

“Please look at me,” Blake urged. Gritting her teeth, Yang managed a nod. She pressed her fingers at the corners of her eyes again and made a small prayer that tears wouldn’t betray her, then turned around slowly.

The anger was no longer written across Blake’s face. There was no judgement. All that Yang could see was sadness, and exhaustion. She was grateful for the darkness; her whole face still felt warm. But then Blake searched her eyes, and Yang remembered Faunus could see in the dark. She wasn’t fooled.

She reached out, cupping Yang’s face in her hands. Yang squeezed her eyes shut.

“I know you were trying to help,” she said softly. Her thumb brushed Yang’s cheek. “I know you wanted to do what was right.”

“I--” Yang began, but her voice shattered. She lowered her head, nearly out of Blake’s hands, then shook it, like she could hide behind her loose blonde hair. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve listened to you.”

She hated the tears that coursed down her cheeks and into Blake’s fingers. She hated the way her body shuddered. She hated her own helplessness. Stripped of her bravado, there was nothing left, and Yang hated that Blake was there to see it.

Blake made comforting, shushing sounds as she pulled Yang closer, arms going around her. Yang pressed her face into Blake’s shoulder, surrendering to the sobs. Distantly, she was aware that Blake’s fingers were combing through her hair, her other hand rubbing circles in Yang’s back. Choked little gasps broke through the air, and it took Yang a minute to realize that those sounds were coming out of her own throat.

“I’m so sorry,” she sputtered between sobs. “I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?” Blake asked. There was tenderness behind her words, a tenderness Yang knew she didn’t really deserve. Not after what happened that night.

“I’m not-- I’m not meant to be a mayor. I’m only screwin’ everything up.”

“Oh, baby,” Blake murmured, face nestling into Yang’s head. “That’s not true.”

“Everything I said tonight--”

“It was a mistake,” Blake agreed, dislodging herself from Yang, who looked away. Firmly, Blake gripped her chin, tilting her head up, seeking out her eyes. Yang hunched in on herself, wishing for a shield to hide behind. She’d never felt so naked. “But it’s something we’ll have to work through. And we will. We need to keep moving forward, and we’ll get through it. We can talk to Sienna again when these three months are up. If we make progress in other ways, maybe she can see that we’re working on it. This doesn’t have to be the end. I’m sure we’ll pull through.”

“But I can’t _do_ it!” That small exclamation burst into another fit of sobs. “There’s so _much_, and I just can’t do it. I can’t run a town.”

“Shhh.” Again, Blake pulled her into a tight embrace, holding fast through the painful shudders that wracked Yang’s body. She crumpled against Blake, who caught her broken pieces in her arms. “I’ll be with you, every step of the way,” she promised, nails scratching lightly as she rubbed Yang’s back. “We’ll be together. We’ll be united. We’ll be okay.”

Somehow, they moved back from the stables and into the house. Yang barely noticed. All she could sense was how swollen her face felt, how raw her eyes were, and Blake’s comforting weight supporting her. At one point, she knew Blake had taken her bandana from her, dabbing at her eyes and her cheeks, but there was little point. She was a wreck.

Yang sat on the bed to take off her clothes, tossing her clothes onto the chair in the corner. That was all she had energy for. She curled into bed, knees tucked up, though she unfurled when Blake lay beside her.

“We’ll be okay,” Blake repeated, molding her body against Yang’s. She ran a hand through Yang’s hair, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We can get through this. We learned something tonight, and at the very least, we can use that in the future. We’ll manage.”

Yang tried to believe her.

\--

Yang slept through the first knock at the door, and then the second. She only roused slightly when Blake got up to investigate, to shove an arm under her pillow and bury her face in it. She wasn’t ready for day, or for reality.

“I guess they got all the numbers tallied,” Blake said softly when she rejoined Yang in bed. Yang still didn’t dislodge her face from the pillow. It was probably still a mess from the night before.

“Yeah?” she asked, voice muffled.

“Good news first, or bad news?”

“Schnee won, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Blake paused, then began to slide a hand along the curve of Yang’s spine. “But he’s only one board member. It doesn’t have to be the end of the world.”

“So who else?” Yang tilted her head slightly to the side, enough to breathe a little more comfortably.

“Weiss is treasurer. Jaune made it, too. A woman named Robyn Hill, who I’m pretty sure is on our side. Glynda Goodwitch.”

“And?”

“And… two or three people who lean more on Schnee’s side. A couple more who I’m not sure about.”

“And the Faunus?”

“A man named Leonardo Lionheart. From what I could tell during the campaigning, he seems like a good peacekeeper. Very organized. He won’t try to stir up trouble, but he seems like a good man.”

It wasn’t a name very well-known to Yang, but she could sort of remember that he was one of the patriarchs in the Faunus quarter. If what Blake said was accurate, he would be a good choice. She exhaled, then nodded, still not lifting her head up.

“I guess we’ll have to push through,” she muttered.

“How’re you feeling?” Blake asked gently. Yang groaned, shifting her head again into the pillow.

“I don’t wanna get up.”

“You’ve got a little time this morning. The first council meeting won’t be till next week. You can sleep as long as you want today.”

“Lucky me.”

“Do you… want me to stay with you?”

Yang finally rolled over, looking up at Blake, trying to keep her expression hidden. She felt like an idiot, the most moronic gunslinger on Remnant. The shame from last night still pulsed against her skin. The daylight that filtered through the curtains only illuminated that shame-- the way she’d seized control of the situation with Sienna, her foolish promise, the self-pitying breakdown. Yet nothing seemed to remain of Blake’s anger.

“Yeah,” Yang replied, mouth dry. Was it wrong, to be so relieved when Blake slid beside her? They’d slept together all night, but a part of her still worried that, now that it was morning, Blake would find her anger again, just as Yang had found that guilt.

Silence fell between them as they wriggled instinctively against each other. It was an uncertain silence, drawn out like an unfinished thought. Yang slipped her arms around Blake’s waist, then closed her eyes.

“I’ll be more careful,” she said softly. “I won’t… do anything like that again.”

“Yang…”

“Because you were right.” Yang pulled her head back to look down. Her eyelids felt heavy, drooping. “This ain’t my fight. None of this is about me. I wanna do right by you. By the Faunus. And what I did last night… wasn’t that. I’m not gonna fight _for _you. I’m gonna fight _with_ you.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Blake murmured. Lightly, she brushed her lips against Yang’s. “I know your heart is in the right place, Yang, and I love your heart. I love _you_.”

“I love you, too,” Yang replied, kissing her again. She could be more conscious of her actions. That much, she could do.

\--

They decided to say nothing to Ruby and Weiss on their return from Argus. There would be enough to worry about with the new council, and Yang hadn’t completely assuaged her guilt over the encounter with Sienna. Until it was necessary, they could keep their deal under wraps; most of Sienna’s demands had been things they had wanted to accomplish on their own, anyway. There was no need to cause any extra anxiety.

Pyrrha was already waiting at the autotrain depot when Blake and Yang arrived. When she saw them, she gave them a wave.

“Hello again!” she called out cheerfully. “Didn’t think I’d see y’all here.”

“Knowing Ruby, I’m sure she bought enough shit that I’m gonna have to help carry it,” Yang replied with an exaggerated sigh. “She’s never been one for restraint.”

“So I’ve noticed! Not that it’s a bad thing.”

“Usually.”

There weren’t many people gathered at the depot that afternoon. After the White Fang attack on Mantle, they’d noticed a considerable drop in migrants. It was unfortunate, but understandable. Two major attacks in a year weren’t very reassuring.

So Yang was surprised when she noticed another familiar redhead among the gathered people. She raised an eyebrow. “Penny?”

At her name, Penny spun around, green eyes round and delighted. “Salutations, Mayor!” she said, giving Yang a salute. She took Yang’s greeting for an invitation, for she bobbed over in long strides. “And Miss Belladonna. And Miss Nikos.”

“Are you waiting for someone, too?” Blake asked, surprised. Penny didn’t have family living in Mantle, and she rarely got visitors. When she nodded, everyone’s eyebrows shot up.

“For Ruby!” she said happily. “I promised I’d wait here for her. She invited me to go with them, but I’ve been too busy at the bakery, and then I was scheduled to play for the saloon over the weekend, so…” She shrugged. “Next time, though, she said.”

“She doesn’t like staying in one place too long,” Yang said, nodding. “I’m sure she’ll go back to Argus again soon.”

“I think I hear it,” Blake said suddenly, ears cocking. They all silenced, straining their own ears for the distant rumble of an autotrain. It wasn’t long before they heard the deep-throated whistle that signalled its arrival.

It was still another ten minutes before the train came to a halt and began to unload its passengers. Most of them seemed wealthy, returning from a business or pleasure trip to Argus. There were only a handful of travel-worn people with big suitcases. There was no excitement in those eyes, only resignation.

Ruby and Weiss came out, laden with bags, and both Yang and Pyrrha darted up to help. Yang grimaced at one canvas bag of Ruby’s; it had assumed a blocky shape, undoubtedly full of hardback books that Yang would be expected to carry. She was so distracted by her own irritation that it took her a minute to register the way Pyrrha bent over Weiss, exchanging a small peck of the lips that was too natural to be new.

“I fuckin’ _knew _it!” Yang announced, pointing at the pair. “How long has _that _been goin’ on?”

“Some people know a thing or two about discretion, Yang,” Weiss replied primly, cheeks staining pink.

“I heard about the time you and Blake were makin’ out in front of the saloon,” Ruby added, shaking her head in disappointment. On her hip, she balanced a thick textbook entitled _Comprehensive Field Medicine_ and looked, in that moment, more like a student than a deputy. It only added to her air of judgement. “That’s downright shameful.”

“If you want ‘shameful’--” Yang began, but was interrupted.

“Ruby!”

There was a whir of a green dress and red hair, and Penny slammed into Ruby, sending the book flying. Ruby groaned, but accepted the hug graciously.

“Did you check out that place I told you about?” Penny asked excitedly as Yang bent over to pick up the dropped book. It had landed open on a page about wound care, and there was a grisly photograph of a messy, gaping laceration. Even in shades of sepia, it was pretty horrifying. Yang made a face.

“Just a little light reading?” she asked disgustedly. Only Ruby would spend her free time reading about sutures and wound packing. Just the description was enough to turn her stomach.

“Oh, yeah! That’s where I got these books, Penny!” Ruby replied, grabbing the book out of Yang’s grasp. “A medical supply store,” she explained to Yang. “Her dad’s a doctor, y’know, and I guess he helped start up the hospital out there, and still sends medicines to this store.”

“He’s one of the best!” Penny added, beaming.

“But that’s where I got this textbook! And… some other things.” Ruby smiled sheepishly at her piles of bags and boxes. “But believe me, you’ll be thankin’ me for studyin’ this stuff, just in case we ever drive cattle together again. If you ever get gored by a Boarbatusk, I’ll be able to stitch you back together!”

“You’re stitchin’ jack shit,” Yang told her adamantly. Ruby shrugged, a picture of innocence.

“I could always cauterize! I was readin’ about that, too. For when wounds are too big, if there’s too much blood loss and fear of infection, I take a piece of hot metal and--”

“And I’m stopping the conversation right there,” Weiss said with a grimace. She turned to Yang and Pyrrha confidentially. “And I had to listen to her talk about this for the _entire_ train ride.”

“See what I’ve had to live with my whole _life_?” Yang asked, gesturing widely. “Now you get me!”

The six of them walked back to Yang’s house together, though Weiss paid some nearby Faunus to act as porters, to take their bags and luggage. Yang heaved a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to carry Ruby’s book collection. Still, Pyrrha insisted on hefting a bag in each hand to help, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Weiss, who stared for a whole three seconds before wrenching her eyes away. 

Everyone was surprised, however, to see that there were even more boxes that Weiss had packed in the cargo train: the components for two new air-cooling units. One for Yang’s house, the other for Pyrrha’s.

“As I plan on spending a considerable amount of time in both places, I intend to be comfortable,” Weiss told them, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Ruby, arm linked with Penny’s, only snorted.

“Well, I ain’t complainin’,” Yang said. “So quit makin’ those noises, Ruby.”

“I can make any noises I want!” She blew a loud raspberry, sending both herself and Penny into near-hysterics.

“Children, the both of you,” Weiss muttered.

“I dropped off your orders, by the way, Yang,” Ruby added, prodding her sister in the side.

“What orders?” Blake asked curiously, ears shooting up. Yang shrugged, trying her best to suppress a grin.

“Just mail-order stuff. Nothin’ major, but it was faster to send ‘em straight to Argus through Ruby, instead of waitin’ for the postal service.”

“Which I do _not _blame you for,” Weiss commented, lacing her fingers through Pyrrha’s. “It takes _weeks_ for things to arrive sometimes. My monocle should arrive next week, but the gods only know how long it will _actually_ take.”

“I can’t wait to see how you look in a monocle,” Pyrrha said, smiling. Weiss blushed.

They gathered around Yang’s kitchen table. There weren’t enough chairs for everyone to sit, so they doubled up, with Blake on Yang’s lap. For a moment, Yang had been convinced that Weiss was going to argue sitting on Pyrrha’s; she looked over at her uncertainly, cheeks reddening. And then Pyrrha sat, giving Weiss a warm smile as she patted her lap, and Weiss couldn’t say no.

“Did you hear about the election?” Yang asked casually, eyes flicking over to Penny. She wasn’t sure how much she could say in front of Ruby’s friend, so it was better to be discreet.

“We heard about it before we left,” Weiss said, nodding, biting her lip when Pyrrha slid her arms around her waist. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, don’t we?”

“I’ll say,” Yang muttered, pulling Blake up a little further into her lap.

“So, before we left, Father made the arrangements for Whitley,” Weiss said. Her glance over at Penny was a quick one, but Yang knew she was exercising caution, as well, which was probably why she was shifting the topic of conversation “He'll be arriving by autotrain in two weeks.”

“Who’s Whitley?” Penny asked curiously.

“My younger brother.”

“Ohhh.”

“He’s a prick,” Ruby explained, leaning back in her seat, presumably having heard tales of the youngest Schnee. “He ain’t gonna last long out here.”

“Well, Father’s throwing a party to celebrate. To ‘welcome him to town’,” Weiss went on irritably, bringing up her hand in mock quotation. “But, to make it a little more bearable, I’d like all of you to come.”

“D’you think your dad would let us?” Yang asked, doubtful. She ran her fingers along Blake’s side, and it tickled just enough to make Blake’s ears twitch.

“Even me?” Penny sounded surprised, and she shot up in her seat with a strange eagerness that Yang thought was reserved for schoolchildren. Weiss gave both of them a nod.

“Father loves to show off,” she replied. “He’ll think he’s rubbing his lifestyle in your faces. Like… even though you won the election, he still thinks he’s won _something_. But two weeks should be enough for all of your to get fitted for nice clothes— it’s going to be _formal_.” She stopped, fixing first Ruby, and then Yang, with a glare. “_No _grubbiness will be tolerated.”

“There ain’t much we can do about Yang’s grubbiness,” Ruby replied seriously. “She was born that way.”

Yang growled, then plucked the hat off her head to throw it at her sister. Ruby squealed, ducking, and the hat soared over her head to land on the floor. She looked back up at Yang and stuck her tongue out.

“What about me?” Blake asked slowly. With a frown, Yang nodded.

“If she ain’t allowed, then I’m not goin’, either.”

“I’ll make it work,” Weiss said, her confidence solid. Though her back was straight and stiff, Pyrrha stroked it absently, and Weiss seemed to pull some strength from the touch. “Especially if I remind him that leaving you out would insult Yang. He’s proud, but he won’t want to start a war with the new mayor. At least, not outright. For Yang's sake, I can almost guarantee he’d be willing to tolerate a Faunus for a few hours.”

“I’m not sure if I can go,” Pyrrha remarked, and Weiss turned to face her, stricken. And then Pyrrha laughed, a clear indication of a joke that had both Yang and Ruby laughing. “I’m teasing. Of course I’ll go.”

“That…” Weiss began, a blush creeping its way across her face again, “...wasn’t very nice.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Seated, Pyrrha was still taller than Weiss, so she had to bend a little to press a soft kiss against her lips. Her green eyes were adoring as they stared down at her, and Weiss seemed unable to stop the smallest of smiles.

As if affection were contagious, Yang tightened her grip around Blake, then tipped her head forward against her shoulder. She closed her eyes, relaxing as she felt Blake’s fingers wind into her hair.

“Well, Penny, I think that’s our cue to leave,” Ruby announced, pushing her chair back with a loud squeak. “Knowing Yang and Blake, it’s only gonna get worse from here on out.” She sighed dramatically, and gave the pair a disgusted look.

“Probably,” Yang agreed, and was gratified by Blake’s chuckle.

\--

Weiss had warned her not to arrive late, so Yang made sure she arrived at the meeting before anyone else. They couldn’t afford to give Schnee any reason to think she was incapable. With the town hall still unusable, they’d resorted to using one of the private rooms in Aura, one of the swankier saloons in town. Schnee was friendly with the owners, and had somehow talked them into letting them use the room for a couple hours. For a lack of better options, Yang had to allow it. It had a long, oval table with enough room to seat everyone, and it was a more neutral space than anywhere in the Schnee manorhouse would be.

Predictably, Weiss arrived not long after Yang did. She had prepared the agendas a day in advance. They even had a _header_ on them.

“Well, they _look _official,” Yang said, looking hers over, frowning in thought.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Weiss replied with a shrug. “I’m the one who makes the agenda for Father’s meetings, too. I had our budget printed, as well, so that we can revise today.”

As Weiss set both an agenda and a budget in front of each chair, Yang looked hers over. The budget was full of categories she couldn’t even begin to understand, and numbers that meant even less. She grimaced. It was going to be a long meeting.

Little by little, people began to trickle in. First was Leonardo Lionheart, who looked around the room nervously, then asked if he should sit in a corner. His long tail twitched when Yang instructed him to sit at the table.

“I can move if you need me to,” he made sure to tell them as he sat down.

“You won’t need to move,” Yang replied confidently.

Schnee came in shortly after Lionheart, flanked by a man and woman Yang vaguely recognized as Charles Jericho and Jasmine Corona. Both of them were prominent in Schnee’s circle, so she held very little hope for them. Gritting her teeth, Yang rose, offering all three of them a gracious handshake.

“I’m looking forward to working with you,” Yang lied, somehow managing to keep a smile on her face.

“Likewise,” Schnee lied in return. His cold blue eyes met Yang’s lilac ones, a challenging stare that neither of them yielded until Corona cleared her throat.

“I saw one of those demonstrations you put on once,” she said, her voice a little too honeyed for Yang to believe as sincere. “It was quite impressive.”

“Thank you,” Yang replied. Corona pursed her lips, then waited for a brief, awkward moment before Yang finally added, “...ma’am.”

The three of them took a seat at the table as far away from Lionheart as they could, busily looking over the agendas and budgets. Yang caught each of them looking over to the Faunus with varying levels of contempt and disgust. Jericho was the least subtle about it; he stared Lionheart down, looking him up and down like he was a show pony.

So Yang was relieved that Jaune sat on one side of Lionheart, and Robyn Hill sat on his other side. Jaune greeted Lionheart with a polite handshake, launching straight into easy conversation. Hill, while not as friendly, didn’t flinch away from her own agenda when Leonardo’s tail brushed her shirt sleeve.

Not totally hopeless, Yang supposed.

“Well, I guess this starts off our first official council meeting!” Yang said cheerfully when the last person sat.

“Call the meeting to order,” Weiss whispered.

“Uh, right!” Yang grinned past her own nervousness as she surveyed the people around her. Herself and Weiss. Lionheart. Schnee and his two lackeys. Hill and Goodwitch. Jaune. Three others named Port, Roe, and Goldman. They were all looking at her. “I call the meetin’ to order.”

“At eighteen-hundred hours,” Weiss whispered again.

“At… huh?” Yang looked at her, confused. “It’s six o’clock.”

Jericho snorted in derision, and Weiss sighed. Okay, Yang thought. Maybe it _was_ going to be a little hopeless.

The meeting was long, and boring, and slow-moving. Yang bounced her leg under the table, trying not to look at the clock too often. She knew nothing of the town’s finances, and even after Weiss explained the categories on the budgets, and hearing words like _deficit _and _expenditures_ and _fiscal responsibility_, Yang still wouldn’t have been able to explain it to anyone else. At least the other people around the table were nodding, seeming to understand. Jaune was even taking notes.

Still, Yang was able to grasp the basics. Financially, the town wasn’t doing as well as it should have been. There were too many questionable tax breaks for people who should have been paying more, and it showed in the dismal list of numbers. The tax system would need a complete overhaul in order to generate sustainable income, as Weiss explained. The council would have to come up with a plan.

Schnee remained strangely silent during the whole explanation, though Jericho and Corona argued fiercely against the idea of increased taxes for people who earned more.

“We shouldn’t be penalized for our success,” Jericho told them, clearly affronted.

“It’s not like it’s gonna be a matter of life and death,” Hill remarked dryly. “You’ll still be makin’ more in a day than I do in a month.”

Yang had to swallow back a smirk. She liked this woman already.

Through all of the financial conversation, Lionheart remained silent, though his pen worked steadily as he took notes. Yang had a feeling that night, he would be relaying every word of the conversation to his fellows in the Faunus quarter.

There were questions of official positions, committees, and plans. There was the town hall to consider, though Weiss made it clear that the church would not be a part of the reconstruction effort.

“The church and the city finances need to remain separate,” Weiss told them. “Besides, we simply don’t have the funds for it.” Corona opened her mouth to argue, but Weiss stopped her before she could begin. “Nothing’s stopping you from holding a fundraiser, Miss Corona. I know the church is important to you, but it can’t be a city concern.”

Two hours had passed before the topic finally moved in the direction Yang had been waiting for. _Faunus _was its own category towards the end of the agenda, and as soon as she’d crossed off the proceeding item, she sat up a little straighter.

“And now, about the Faunus…” she began, and she caught Corona’s eyeroll.

“Of course she wants to talk about the Faunus,” Jericho muttered.

“Now, now, let the girl speak,” Schnee said patiently, leaning back in his seat, and Yang flushed with anger.

“That’s _mayor_ to you,” she growled. “And it’s somethin’ that needs to be talked about.”

“The Faunus here are given more liberties than they have even in places like Argus,” Corona commented with an innocent shrug. “I don’t even know why this is up for discussion.” She paused, lip curling. She batted her long lashes at Yang. “Of course,” she added, not breaking eye contact, “I suppose some people here have an unhealthy interest in such matters.”

“Manners, Miss Corona,” Schnee said with an amused chuckle. “We’re speaking with the _mayor_ now.”

Yang clenched her fists beneath the table. “What I was _sayin_’ before I was _interrupted_,” she said stiffly, “is that things ‘round here need to change. We’ve had two White Fang attacks in the past few months, and there’s bound to be more in the future. The harsher we are with the Faunus, the more likely they’ll turn to the White Fang.”

Weiss had told her to go slow, to start with simpler changes. They could work their way up at future meetings, but she couldn’t push them too hard or too fast. She took a deep breath before continuing.

“They deserve basic rights,” Yang said, leaning in. “For one, we need to stop the violence. Beatings, brandings…”

“They’re contracted to me,” Schnee replied, his voice oily. “I can do with them as I see fit.”

“But you don’t own them.” Yang narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t have the right to hurt ‘em, or maim ‘em.”

Schnee opened his mouth, thought better about it, then closed it. He stared at Yang for a moment, and then he smiled at her patronizingly.

“All right, all right,” he replied, waving a hand as if he were simply humoring her. “I’ll give the orders for forbid physical punishment. Is that all you need from me?”

“It’s not just about you, Jacques,” Yang replied. She let her gaze drift across the table, making eye contact with each member of the council. “This is about the whole town. About each one of you here tonight.

“We can’t stand for _any _sort of violence, toward both the humans _and _the Faunus. Not just in your mines, but out in the town, too. No more lettin’ folks off the hook for backhandin’ a Faunus in the street. Everyone gets equal punishment, whatever the race. Our justice needs to be fair.”

Yang felt a little relieved when Lionheart began to nod his head in agreement. It emboldened her, and she decided to go a little off-script. She was the mayor, she reminded herself. Like Blake had said, she could afford to push them a little.

“I also think it would be a good idea to allow the Faunus children to go to school.”

There was a beat. To her side, Weiss covered her eyes in disbelief. Jericho shot up in anger and Corona’s jaw dropped. But it was only Schnee that Yang had eyes for, and his expression didn’t change.

“They’re contracted to me, and they must work,” he replied stonily.

“Not _all _Faunus children are indentured to you,” Yang pointed out. “There are some parents who keep their kids outta the mines, and there are other kids who are too young to mine, but are still old enough to learn a little. Everyone deserves an education, and there’s no reason to forbid it. I make a motion to allow those kids to attend school.”

“I’ll second it,” a mild-mannered voice said. All eyes turned to Lionheart. These were the first words he’d said during the entire meeting. Yang gave him a grin, and, to her surprise, he returned it with a strained smile of his own.

“He can’t second a motion!” Schnee protested, but Jaune shot him a frown.

“Why not? He’s a part of the council.”

“He’s--” Schnee began, but Goodwitch interrupted him.

“Would you prefer the kids to run around the streets unsupervised?” she asked. She raised one blonde, unyielding eyebrow. “You’d think they’d be less likely to get in trouble if they were in school.”

Yang was relieved to see Port nod, then mutter something to Roe, who looked intrigued. Goodwitch’s words held weight; she was the schoolmarm, after all.

“I’ve been saying for months that we need to get those kids off the street,” she told them, pushing her spectacles up with her index finger. “By getting them in the classroom, they’ll be less likely to cause trouble. I think it’s an excellent idea.”

“Parents aren’t going to want to send their kids to school with _Faunus_,” Jericho said, scandalized. Not that it would ever affect him, Yang knew; his two children had a private tutor. “People will start pulling their kids out of school.”

“My school is the only one from here to Argus,” Goodwitch shot back, folding her arms. “If they’d rather have their own children go uneducated, that their prerogative. But it’ll mean less children on the streets, regardless.”

“All in favor?” Yang asked cheerfully.

Apparently, Goodwitch’s argument had worked. There were only four _nays_— Schnee, Jericho, Corona, and Goldman. The look Schnee shot in Weiss’s direction was chilling. He had probably assumed she would submit to his own vote on the subject. Weiss pretended to ignore him, choosing to jot something down on her agenda. When Yang looked over, she saw Weiss’s hand was trembling slightly.

But it was a solid majority. Yang had won this battle.

The meeting finally wrapped up around nine-thirty, and Yang felt like her brain was oozing out of her ears. She yawned and stood to stretch. If she never had to attend another meeting in her life, it would be too soon.

The council trickled out, little by little, though many of them stayed to attempt smalltalk with Yang. She obliged as best as she could, but she was tired of talking, and even more tired of listening. She nodded politely to what was said, aware that a little conversation could go a long way in getting people onto her side.

Politics. Yang supposed she was finally starting to understand what that word meant.

She did want to try to catch Lionheart, to ask his opinions on what she should do next, but he was gone by the time Yang managed to free herself from conversation. He had probably left the minute the meeting had adjourned. She sighed heavily, leaning against the desk. Schnee, too, was gone, but that was more a relief than anything else. It was only her and Weiss.

“Do you mind walking me to Pyrrha’s?” Weiss asked, a little too casually. Of course she wouldn’t want to go back to the manor that night. “She’s got the night off, so…”

Yang nodded.

The streets were dark and dusty. Yang kicked at a rock, watching it bounce along the dirt. Blake would be at the saloon that night. She toyed with the idea of going to Crocea Mors for a visit, but decided against it. She didn’t want to get pulled into more exhausting conversation. She needed to recharge.

“I thought we decided to stick to the simple stuff tonight,” Weiss remarked.

“Hm?” Yang asked, looking down at her. Weiss sighed.

“We’re supposed to move slowly.”

“Well…” Yang paused. They _had _agreed to address the more basic concerns: violence, fair treatment. Bringing up Faunus education had been a risk. “I guess I got a little carried away,” she admitted, smiling sheepishly. “I figured we were doin’ so well, that I’d keep the momentum goin’.”

“You… probably shouldn’t have done that,” Weiss told her slowly, expression pained. “Next time, I’d really appreciate if you don’t. Get carried away, I mean.”

Yang opened her mouth, mind already racing with an argument, before realizing that there had been a plea in Weiss’s voice. She remembered the cold look in Schnee’s eye when Weiss had voted in favor of educating Faunus children. She should have realized that a vote like that could have terrible consequences for Weiss.

“Oh, shit,” she said instead, eyes widening. “Your dad. Right. I didn’t even think about it like that.”

“Lucky you,” Weiss replied stonily. Yang grimaced.

“I’m so sorry, Weiss,” she said, hating how apologizing was becoming something of a habit. “I won’t do that again.”

“It’s… probably going to be all right. I think,” Weiss told her, though she sounded unconvinced. “He’s got a lot going on this week— he's been trying to get things ready for Whitley, and then there’s the party next week, and he’s also been trying to arrange a meeting with the Caspian Brothers… so I’m hoping he doesn’t think too long about this. But still… We might not be so lucky in the future. We can take steps forward, but they have to be slow.”

“I know,” Yang sighed.

They lapsed into an awkward silence as they trudged down the street. It was late enough that the streets were somewhat quiet, with only a dull hum of conversation coming from the saloons they passed. It didn’t even seem like any of them had music playing.

“Are you and Blake ready? For the party?” Weiss finally asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Yang gave a shrug. “Are _you_?”

“Let’s just say that if it wasn’t for you and the others coming, I’d be dreading it. But I just might survive yet.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“But I’m anticipating that things are going to be… tense, with Whitley in the house.” Weiss paused. “He’s… good at stirring up trouble.”

“What d’you mean?”

“He’s the kind of person who’ll pit people against each other,” she explained. She didn’t look at Yang, only stared at the street ahead of them as they walked. “Back when we were all still in Atlas, I thought he was on my side for a while. Right after Father made me heiress, things were stressful, but Whitley acted like he supported me. That he had my back. I’d talk to him about ideas for the company, or things I thought I could change. I guess I kind of considered him to be a kind of sounding board.” She smiled humorlessly. “Some days, I’d get irritated with Father, and I’d vent to him. But more and more, Father would find new reasons to be irritated with me, and we argued more often.” She shook her head, her ponytail bouncing. “Finally, Klein told me the truth. He overheard Whitley telling Father everything I’d told him in confidence, and Father… _rewarded_ him for it, with gifts... with trips... Meanwhile, it made things… harder. For me.”

“And you think he’ll do the same thing here?” Yang asked. Already, she was hoping Whitley would give her an excuse to hit him.

“If he knows the inheritance is at stake? Absolutely. Which is why we need to be on our best behavior, and move slowly,” Weiss said. She looked up at Yang, that pleading look returning to her eyes. “Even if it means going a few meetings without bringing up the Faunus at all. That might even make Father feel secure, so that by the time we _do_ mention the Faunus, he’ll be less prepared.”

“A few meetings,” Yang repeated faintly. Even with one meeting a week, that would eat through their three months of peace. They wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything by the deadline if they didn’t talk about the Faunus. 

“I know it’s slow, but it might give me a chance to get a firmer hold on the company,” Weiss went on, a bit of confidence returning to her voice. “To… show Father that I’m loyal. That I have the company’s best interests at heart.”

Yang suddenly wished she could sit down. Since the night she’d broken down, she’d methodically buried her feelings of inadequacy. Those were feelings she’d never wanted to face again, but with Weiss’s request, they threatened to build up and bubble over her once more. There was just no winning, she thought. She was in way over her head. 

Fortunately, they’d arrived at Pyrrha’s before Yang could think of a response. Weiss didn’t hesitate before knocking on the door.

It was a small house, with one room and no running water. At least now, thanks to Weiss, it boasted an air-cooling unit. For all its simplicity, Weiss seemed more comfortable at Pyrrha’s house than in the manor; when the door swung open and Pyrrha greeted them, Weiss’s whole posture relaxed.

Yang took a step back, averting her eyes when Weiss stepped into Pyrrha’s arms. Though it was a simple hug, it was soft, and intimate, and just watching made Yang feel like an intruder. Weiss clearly needed the comfort, and she clung to Pyrrha, her head nestling against her chest while Pyrrha’s hand smoothed across her back.

“C’mon in for a drink, Yang!” Pyrrha offered when Weiss released her. “I gotta say, I’m a little curious to hear what went on at that meeting.”

“I’m sure Weiss can fill you in,” Yang replied, forcing a laugh, relieved at how natural it felt. “I’m goin’ home. I’ve got a headache, from listenin’ to a bunch of bullshit all night.”

“That bad, huh?” Pyrrha asked with a wince. Both Yang and Weiss nodded.

“It was just so _boring_,” Yang whined.

“It _was_ rather tedious,” Weiss agreed. Pyrrha chuckled.

“Then I’ll thank y’all for your service, goin’ to the meetings so the rest of us don’t have to!” she replied, a twinkle in her green eyes.

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willin’ to make for good townsfolk like you, Miss Nikos.” Yang tipped her hat, gave Pyrrha a wink. Weiss rolled her eyes, but Pyrrha laughed again.

But the levity faded as Yang made the short walk back to her own house. It was hard to keep the darkness at bay when she considered Weiss’s dilemma. Once again, Yang had gone and made a decision without any thought to the people she worked with. She should have known better. She should have thought ahead just for _once_, to realize that by bringing up the education issue, she was only increasing the tension between Weiss and her father. It had been a decision that easily could get Weiss hurt, but Yang had been too rash, too thoughtless, too selfish.

First Blake, then Weiss. How many more people would she hurt?

The house was empty when Yang made it home. Ruby was presumably out at a saloon, and Blake was working, leaving Yang with a silent house and her own chaotic thoughts. She wished Ruby had been home. Her sister would have been able to distract her, even if just for a little while. Anything was better than the lonely silence.

Instead, she poured herself a small glass of moonshine and knocked it back. She hoped the familiar burn could help quell the thoughts just enough for her to fall asleep a little more easily. The meeting _had_ exhausted her, set her mind to spinning. Schnee had made being a mayor look so easy, but then again, he hadn’t needed to answer to anyone other than himself. He had no voters, no council. But Yang had both to contend with.

And it was all too much.

It was a relief, then, when the alcohol began to slow the world around her. It felt like she floated, more than walked, to the bedroom. She stretched out beneath the blankets and closed her eyes, eager for sleep to clear her mind, but even with the booze to help, it took a long time for sleep to claim her.

—

She awoke when the door creaked open, and Yang bolted up in bed automatically. Her whole body felt hot and sweaty. Whatever she’d been dreaming had already slipped from her mind, but she still felt its residual panic coursing through her blood, her pulse racing.

“Are you okay?” Blake asked, eyebrows creasing in concern. She strode to the bed and sat beside her, the mattress sinking slightly beneath her as she pressed her hand against Yang’s forehead. “Are you sick?”

“I’m fine,” Yang mumbled. Blake’s hand was warm and grounding, and her heartbeat began to slow. “Guess it was just a bad dream.”

Blake pushed away the blonde hair that had plastered itself to Yang’s sweaty face, and used her other hand to gently urge Yang back into bed. “Yeah, no fever or anything. You gonna be okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Yang’s eyelids felt heavy, and she closed them. She must have thrashed in her sleep, for Blake began to untuck the blanket from where it had bunched up around her waist. “It’s just been a bit of a stressful day.”

“I can only imagine.” Yang could hear the smile in Blake’s voice as she covered Yang with the blanket once more, all the way up to her shoulders. “How was the meeting?”

“It was long. Boring. But we got what we wanted, at least.” She paused. “We put the question about school to a vote.”

“For Faunus kids?” Blake asked, surprised.

“Yeah.”

“I thought you were going to wait a week or two before bringing that up.”

“I was.” Yang opened her eyes again, trying to search for the same worry that she’d seen on Weiss’s. But there was only surprise, and eagerness.

“And?”

“We won, eight-to-four.”

“That’s… incredible!” Beaming, Blake leaned over her, lips brushing against Yang’s in a light kiss. “I can’t believe it!”

“Weiss was a little nervous about it, though,” she admitted uncomfortably. “She voted alongside me instead of Schnee, so she’s worried about how that’ll go.”

“Oh… yeah…” Blake bit her lip. “Is she… gonna be all right?”

“She’s stayin’ with Pyrrha tonight, and she said she’s hopin’ Schnee is gonna be too busy with everything that's comin' up to think about that.”

“That’s a good point.” Blake ran her hand across Yang’s forehead one more time, tenderly. “We’ll keep an eye on her, and she’ll be okay.”

“I hope so,” Yang muttered. She thought about voicing her concerns— that she’d done the same thing to Weiss that she had to Blake, that she was being a fool, being stupid— but decided against it. Blake had already seen Yang lose her cool, and it had barely been over a week. She didn’t want Blake to see her have so much self-doubt ever again. So she said nothing, only accepting another kiss before Blake stood up to get changed. 

She was half-asleep by the time Blake crawled into bed beside her, but she woke up enough to wrap her arms around her. She thought of the way Weiss had clung to Pyrrha, desperate for comfort, and unconsciously, her arms began to tighten as she did the same thing. She nuzzled her face into the top of Blake’s head, between her ears,

“You sure you’re okay?” Blake asked softly, beginning to rub circles into Yang’s back. She sensed that need for comfort, even if Yang wouldn’t say it.

“Mhm.” But Yang didn’t let go of her, and Blake didn’t stop rubbing her back.

“You can talk to me, y’know,” Blake reminded her after a moment.

“I know,” Yang whispered. Her thumb brushed Blake’s waist. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“All right.” She felt Blake’s lips on her neck, soft and warm, and Yang sighed contentedly. “I’m proud of you, Yang.”

There was still a small part of herself that argued that point, that she’d done nothing to be proud of, but most of her ached to hear those words. When was the last time anyone had said that to her?

With Blake in her arms, murmuring gentle words, it was easier to release the fear and anxiety. Yang molded against her body, breathing in her sweet, familiar smell as she soaked herself in Blake’s love. That was really all she needed, she thought as she drifted back to sleep. As long as she had that love in her life, then Yang could handle whatever life threw at her. Their love could outshine hell itself and with it, everything would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was originally going to include some of the events that are going into the NEXT chapter. Then this chapter got way too big for its britches, and I ended up splitting them up. Hopefully, it doesn't drag things out too much, but I think it'll be better if I don't rush what I'm about to get into.
> 
> Now that V7 is upon us, I'd like to ask that y'all keep spoilers out of the comments! At least, spoilers for people who don't have First. Once the episodes are released publicly, then it's fair game. As you might have noticed, I may incorporate very, very basic stuff from V7 into the fic. I may use some characters as side characters, but hopefully written in a way that makes them indistinguishable from OC side characters. I won't be incorporating any of the V7 plot into the fic, though! The plot for this fic is already planned out enough that there isn't any room to make changes, haha.
> 
> And FINALLY: ButtonMasherFTW(ao3)/Canius Productions(tumblr) made art of monocle!Weiss and it's PERFECT. You can admire it [here!](https://caniusproductions.tumblr.com/post/188894033911/oh-hey-pugoata-remember-that-thing-i-said-i) It is GLORIOUS and PERFECT. And I'm cryin' bitch tears over Best Girl Weiss Schnee again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated S for Smut... and other things.
> 
> Also, there's something icky toward the end. So if you're squeamish, beware.

Yang and Blake stood motionless in front of the school house, both too stunned for words. They had known that the townsfolk wouldn’t be happy with the council’s decision to allow Faunus children to attend school. In the days following, Yang had heard angry whispers and mutterings, but she’d brushed them off. They didn’t seem any different than the usual complaints about her relationship with Blake.

She shouldn’t have underestimated them.

The windows in the front of the schoolhouse were smashed. Someone had thrown bricks through both windows, shattering the glass and breaking the panes. Then, on the front door, in red paint that was still wet, someone had written: _NO ANIMALS_.

“This is low,” Yang said in a low voice. She had to keep it low, because if she didn’t, she was going to scream.

“This is a _schoolhouse_!” Glynda Goodwitch hissed. She was shaking with incredulous rage. “How _dare_ they!”

A small crowd had gathered around to ogle the damage, though Ruby and a few others were keeping them back. Even though it was early morning, it felt like the whole town had come to see what had happened.

“The city can pay to get the windows replaced,” Yang found herself telling Goodwitch. “We’ll find the funds for it. This is city property, so—”

“I hope you’re happy with yourselves.”

Yang turned away from Glynda, eyebrows shooting up as Blake addressed the onlookers. Her whole body had stiffened, her ears flat on her head with fury. Her voice was raised, loud enough for even the people in the back to hear.

“Doing this to the schoolhouse doesn’t punish the Faunus,” she continued, gesturing to the building. “Your own children will be the ones who won’t be able to attend class today. _They _will be the ones who will have to look at these smashed windows and wonder if the people who did this was someone they know. What kind of example are you setting for your own children, by letting this happen?”

Yang nodded in agreement, making sure everyone knew that she supported those words. A few people in the crowd shifted uncomfortably, and a couple of them glared at Blake for speaking to humans in such a way. But nobody dared speak out.

“You all make such a big deal when someone has horns, or tails, or an extra set of ears,” she went on, meeting those glares head-on. “But for all you call us ‘animals’... the only people I’ve seen act it are among _you_.”

The angry, sputtering murmurs of the crowd had the same effect as buzz of a hornet’s nest. Yang tensed, hands twitching to her guns as her gaze flickered across the people.

“If anyone has any information on who did this,” she added, stepping beside Blake, “please bring it to my attention. This sort of behavior will _not _be tolerated.” She narrowed her eyes. “Y’all want more Grimm? 'Cause _this_—” She jutted her chin toward the schoolhouse. “--is gonna attract Grimm. This is pure negative activity, and it puts the entire town in jeopardy if y'all keep it up. Y'all don’t like the way this town is run? Feel free to leave.”

Silence met her words, and she slid a hand to rest on the small of Blake’s back in a show of solidarity. They were a united front, and it was important for the town to realize that.

“Show’s over, folks,” Ruby announced, making shooing gestures. “Unless y’all have information for us, y’all have no business here.”

Slowly, the crowd trickled away, though Yang definitely noticed some dirty looks shot in their direction. She took note of them as potential suspects, but knew the likelihood of identifying the vandal was slim. She sighed, curling her fingers lightly against Blake’s back.

“What they could have hoped to accomplish…” Goodwitch muttered, shaking her head.

“When people are angry, they do stupid things,” Blake replied, voice hard. “I doubt this will be the last time something like this happens. It may not happen to the schoolhouse again, but I won’t be surprised if more people lash out in other ways.”

Yang groaned, then strode over towards one of the windows. If they got all the glass cleaned up, the children would be able to return to school the next day. Still, broken windows would be a stark reminder to the children about what friendship with Faunus could cost them. They might even blame the Faunus children for the attack. It was a mess, from every way she looked at it.

“If you want, I could go see if anyone’s bought red paint at the general store in the past few days,” Ruby offered, joining her sister by the window. Yang nodded dully.

“That’s somethin’, I guess.”

“It’s a hard road, but we’ll get through it,” Ruby added, patting her back encouragingly. “People gotta adapt, but once they do, it’ll be worth it.”

Yang nodded again, but all she could think about was: if this was the reaction to just letting Faunus children into school… what would the reaction be if she tried to end indentures altogether?

“A couple of children have been pulled out of school already,” Goodwitch told them, voice devoid of emotion. “And there’s at least one more set of parents who are threatening to do the same.”

“Shit,” Yang muttered, finally turning back to face the schoolmarm. “I’m sorry, Miss Goodwitch.”

“The cost of progress,” she replied, looking back over to her poor schoolhouse. She sighed. “Well… all we can do now is clean up the mess and hope it doesn’t happen again.”

“We can help,” Blake offered. Goodwitch nodded.

“That would be appreciated.”

“Maybe we can hold a fundraiser!” Ruby suggested, nudging Yang. “We could hold a charity dinner, or a raffle, or—”

“The Schnee Dust Company will cover all the damages.”

Ruby jumped, then whirled around. Coming down the street, flanked by some of his cronies, was Jacques Schnee. In his shadow, holding a lacy white parasol, was Weiss. This was the first time Yang had seen her wear her monocle; it was a delicate thing, with an intricate pattern engraved into the thin frame. An equally thin chain attached it to her blouse, swinging slightly as she walked. For all of the fancy clothes of the people around her, Weiss was the only one to look truly sophisticated.

“Pardon?” Yang asked, truly surprised by his offer.

“Of course,” he said smoothly. He flattered Goodwitch with a small bow. “We can’t have the schoolhouse go without. My company would be more than happy to cover the costs.”

Yang shot Blake an incredulous look, but her ears had pinned back once again, this time in suspicion. Yang was inclined to agree; there was no way this could be purely charitable.

“What’s the catch, Jacques?” she asked casually, stretching her arms out as if it were the least concerning thing in the world. Schnee looked theatrically aghast.

“Catch? There is no catch,” he replied, a little too jovial. “The Schnee Dust Company cares deeply about the education of the town’s children. What happened here was a terrible, terrible thing.”

Yang tried to meet Weiss’s eyes, but the other woman’s expression never changed. It was carefully neutral, and Yang remembered that Weiss was still trying to stay in her father’s good graces. She would be unable to intervene, or even offer her perspective.

“I see,” Goodwitch remarked, though there was relief in her tone.

“The city can pay for it,” Yang interjected. “It’s—”

“Didn’t we just have a meeting where we discussed the budget?” Schnee asked idly as he tapped his fingers against his cane. “This city needs to save every lien it can. Consider this a gift.”

A _gift_. Yang gritted her teeth, but Goodwitch was nodding. She’d been at the meeting. She knew the state of the budget, especially when they’d just submitted the orders to get the town hall rebuilt. Logically, it made sense. Turning it down would be nothing short of foolish.

So she took a deep breath. “Thank you, Jacques,” she told him, as politely as she could manage.

But his smirk was too satisfied for Yang to feel at ease.

It was something they discussed later, when they reconvened at Yang’s house. Weiss had managed to slip away from her father to join them, pulling her parasol closed before stepping into the house. She sighed, then adjusted her monocle as Yang set a small platter of biscuits on the table.

“It looks so good on you!” Ruby gushed, peering closer. It was a little _too _close, for Weiss glared and took a step backwards.

“Do you mind?” she asked crossly.

“She’s right, though,” Blake commented, pulling out a chair for Yang and herself. “It’s a good look. Has Pyrrha seen it yet?”

“I was going to show her today.” A smile ghosted across her face as she sat down. “It just came in last night. Even Father said it gives me a refined air.”

“Never thought I’d agree with him about anything,” Blake replied, chuckling.

“Speaking of your father…” Yang began, and Weiss grimaced. 

“I know.” She shook her head. “I have no idea what he’s planning, by doing that.”

“You don’t know?” Yang asked, heart sinking.

“He… hasn’t been telling me everything,” Weiss admitted uncomfortably. “Ever since the mayoral election… he’s been telling me less and less. He doesn’t trust me like he used to.”

“Shit,” Yang said softly.

“Well, screw him,” Ruby exclaimed, slamming a hand down on the tabletop. “God, he’s such a _jerk_.”

Both Blake and Yang laughed, and even Weiss smiled weakly. “He’s a jerk that I have to stay on the good side of,” she corrected.

“Just move out! Move in with us! Or Pyrrha!”

“You know I can’t do that, Ruby.” Weiss paused, then blurted, “I just wish I knew what he was doing! He keeps… stringing me along, but I can’t tell if he’s actually giving Whitley the inheritance or not. He keeps threatening it whenever I do something he doesn’t like, but he also acts like nothing’s changed when I do what he wants. I just… I don’t know!”

“Weiss,” Yang said softly. Blake reached a hand out to squeeze her shoulder. 

“I guess we’ll find out soon, though,” Weiss said, snapping back into composure. “Whitley will be here soon.”

“And then there’s the _party_!” Ruby added, with a grin. Then, she added more seriously, “Do you want us to cause some trouble? Maybe drown Whitley in a punch bowl?”

“That… would be childish,” Weiss replied sternly, though Yang caught her little smile before she hid it behind her hand.

—

A party. Or, a _soirée_, as Weiss had corrected. Yang had been to a few in her days as sheriff, though she’d never bothered to dress up for them like she did now. She’d always figured her reputation had earned her the right to do what she wanted and dress as she pleased. It fit her image of a hardened cowboy who was above such frivolous, swanky affairs. She wasn’t one of _them_, she’d seemed to say.

She still wasn’t, but she had a different kind of image to uphold.

Yang wasn’t the type who often wore dresses. She didn’t have anything against them, but they were impractical for her line of work. It was a different sort of experience, having to go to a dressmaker, but Yang found that she rather enjoyed it. Scarlet had several floor-length mirrors, so she was able to stare at his handiwork from every angle. She couldn’t stop a smile from spreading. He’d outdone himself.

“You shouldn’t be workin’ in a place like Mantle,” she told him, turning a little to watch the way the white skirt billowed around her. “You’d make a killin’ in Atlas.”

“Well, my sister’s family was out here, so I thought I’d give it a try,” he said with a shrug. He tilted his head, scrutinizing Yang’s dress for any last-minute alterations. “I do miss the city, though.”

He’d never adopted the Western drawl in the months he’d lived in Mantle. He was a city person, through and through.

“I’m definitely glad you’re here for now, at least,” Yang told him sincerely, twirling again. The skirt was light, and Yang had been relieved that there were no hoops built into it, nor a bustle. She didn’t think she could’ve learned to navigate anything like that on such short notice. “This is prob'ly the prettiest I’ve ever looked.”

“I only do clothes,” Scarlet replied, though he seemed to be fighting back a smug smile. “The beauty was always there.”

Yang rolled her eyes, but didn’t fight the compliment. All that mattered was that she would look perfect at the party, which was only in two days’ time. She wanted to do more than fit in: she wanted to_ shine_. She wanted Schnee to know that while he may have had wealth, it would never buy character or charm. And now, looking at herself in the mirror, Yang could feel like she had that in spades.

Her dress was simple, lending Yang a more casual elegance than what most of the women would wear to the party. The wealthy women of Schnee’s circle would hide themselves behind rich satins and silks, their dresses ruffled and big in a way that would hide their curves behind bright fakeries. They would wear enough makeup to completely alter their faces, and Scarlet had explained that some women would tie up their hair tightly, just to show off the glittering jewels on their necks and ears.

That wasn’t the route he’d taken with Yang.

She didn’t need the embellishments of fancy baubles and shiny fabrics; she had other assets. Her arms were left mostly bare. In a dark violet corset, she almost didn’t need sleeves at all, only token slips of fabric to keep the dress from looking completely scandalous. A simple necklace would put the look together, Scarlet explained, but not the heavier pieces favored by the wealthy. There was beauty in simplicity, he added with a satisfied smile. She would stick out, but in an elegant way.

“Well, it’s perfect,” Yang told him, smiling at her own reflection. Seeing herself in the mirror, she didn’t think she could even call herself vain for liking what she saw.

She thought of Blake, and a small flutter of excitement shot up through her stomach. Blake had never seen her wear anything like this. She would like it, Yang knew, but it didn’t stop the pleasant tingle of anticipation of her reaction.

But more importantly, she was eager to see how _Blake _would look.

“Not until the party!” Ruby insisted. When Yang had arrived home, she’d begun to take her dress out of the bag to show it to Blake, but Ruby had smacked her arm. “She can’t see you till the party!”

“Huh?” Yang asked stupidly, and Blake snickered.

“You’re not supposed to see her dress till the _party_,” Ruby repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Yang slowly cocked her head, trying to make sense of it. “You and I are gonna get ready here, and Blake’s gonna go to Weiss’s to get ready. And then--”

“She’s gonna get ready with me,” Yang interjected in disbelief. “This ain’t a weddin’ day, Ruby. Although…” She paused, giving Blake an exaggerated wink. “Maybe that ain’t such a bad idea.”

“It would certainly steal the show,” Blake agreed. Suspiciously, Ruby looked from one to the other. 

“It’s bad when I can’t tell whether y’all are jokin’ or not,” she said at last, and both Blake and Yang burst into laughter.

“We ain’t movin’ _that_ fast, so don’t even worry about it,” Yang told her, still chuckling. “It’s only been a few months.”

“I dunno…” Ruby replied, face screwed up into a doubtful expression. “Y’all moved in together pretty quick, didn’t you?”

“True,” Blake commented. She shot Yang an exaggerated wink of her own. “Where’s my ring, baby?”

“Gods, Ruby.” Yang heaved a dramatic sigh. “I was gonna make it all special and romantic, and then you come around and ruin it for me.”

Ruby’s eyes widened, looking horrified. “Really?! Oh, gods, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t’ve--” she began, then scowled as Yang and Blake started laughing again. “I hate both y’all.”

“You’re just so easy sometimes,” Yang told her, reaching out to muss her hair. Ruby whined, and pushed Yang’s hand away.

“And _you’re _just so _mean_ all the time!”

“What can I say? It’s my job as an older sister.” She brought her arms up in a shrug. Ruby sighed dramatically.

“And I basically have two now, right?” she asked, looking over at Blake with a look of resignation. “Which means I’m gonna suffer twice as much.”

Blake’s eyes and ears shot up, looking suddenly touched. Yang smiled, and nodded.

“Sounds about right.”

—

“Wow.”

That was all Yang could say when she’d finished tightening the back of Blake’s corset. Her dress was a beautiful shade of gold, just slightly darker than Blake’s eyes. The skirt was long, and had a little more ruffle to it than Yang’s did. She reached out a hand, rolling the skirt’s fabric between her fingers, surprised at how lightweight it felt.

In their little mirror, Blake looked up at Yang’s reflection, eyebrow raised. “Is that so?”

“You’re… you’re gorgeous,” Yang stammered, feeling her cheeks grow warm. Blake fought back a pleased smile, then rolled her eyes in an attempt to brush off the compliment.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Blake replied evenly, looking back in the mirror. She pulled at one of the thin straps of the dress, adjusting her bodice to make it a little more even.

Yang hadn’t even pulled her dress on yet. She’d only managed to pull it up around her waist before Blake had asked for help. Flushing slightly, she pulled it the rest of the way up, then snatched her corset.

“Need some help with that?” Blake asked interestedly as Yang began to lace up the front.

She paused, looking up at Blake in suspicion. The contact of Blake’s fingers on her skin might be too much for her to handle at that moment. Yang couldn’t recall ever having seen a more beautiful woman in her whole life. But she nodded eagerly, unable to resist.

Yang sucked her stomach in as Blake pulled the lacing tighter. She definitely _wasn’t _using this opportunity to stare at Blake’s cleavage, nor her bared neck, nor any of the exposed skin on her chest. Blake smirked. She clearly knew the effect she was having.

“You should… wear a necklace, or something,” Yang managed to say with a small gulp.

“Hm?”

“Over there.” Yang jutted her chin toward their dresser. “Top drawer. I have one that might look good on you tonight.”

“I didn’t know you owned much jewelry,” Blake commented, slightly teasing as she tied it off at the bottom. Yang chuckled and as she did so, she saw the way Blake’s eyes flicked to her chest. It made her feel better that she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t keep her eyes away.

“I don’t. But I’ve got one necklace that’ll look good with your dress. It’s purple.”

“So it goes with _your _dress,” Blake teased, and Yang laughed.

“Maybe. But purple’s your color, too, y’know.” She adjusted the corset a little while Blake peeked into the drawer.

“This one?” she asked, pulling out a long gold chain. A small drop of amethyst hung from it. Yang nodded.

It was the necklace she had planned to wear herself, but now, having seen Blake in her dress, she knew that it would look much better on her. Wordlessly, Blake handed her the necklace, then turned around. Yang glanced up at the mirror as she fastened it, a smile coming unbidden to her face.

She’d been right, of course.

“Perfect,” Yang murmured in her ear. She pulled aside one of the straps of Blake’s dress, brushing a kiss against her bare shoulder. Blake blushed, looking somehow even more beautiful than she had before.

After dressing, there was still the complicated matter of hair and makeup. Most of the other women at the party that night would have their hair perfectly coiffed and styled, but both Blake and Yang would wear their hair down. Among the things Yang had ordered from Argus included a moisturizing cream that would keep her hair from going too wild. After she’d run it through her blonde curls, she knew it had been money well-spent.

“It smells good,” Blake commented as they walked. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking in the sweet smell of exotic citrus. She rested her hand on Yang’s proffered arm, allowing herself to be led. “Where’d you get it, anyway?”

“I stole one of Weiss’s catalogs,” Yang replied with a laugh. “That’s what I had Ruby send for when she went to Argus. I just didn’t realize it’d come in handy so soon. Though, I’m sure I woulda been usin’ it anyway.”

“You _do _take good care of your hair,” Blake mused.

“Even when I was out drivin’ cattle, I always made sure to,” she replied, chuckling. “Seems a little silly, but fixin' my hair helped remind me that I wasn’t just a nasty cowboy, y’know?”

“Well, you _are _a nasty cowboy.” Blake squealed slightly when Yang poked in her the side, and then laughed. “You know I’m teasing,” she amended. Yang could hear a smile in her voice. “I don’t think it’s silly at all. It’s so easy to lose yourself in what you do, that finding any kind of control for yourself is good.”

“Did you do anything like that in the Fang?” Yang asked, suddenly curious. Blake looked down, biting her lip in what could have been shame.

“No,” she admitted. “I poured myself so much into the cause. And maybe that’s why I couldn’t see the truth in what Adam was doing. I didn’t have much control for myself anymore. I got a little lost.”

“But you found yourself, in the end,” Yang reminded her. She took her by the hand and squeezed, and Blake gave her a small smile.

“I did.”

The whole manor was abuzz with activity. Schnee had set up a massive platform on the dusty lawn for dancing, lights rigged up around it. A string quartet played in one corner, and already, well-dressed people were dancing politely. It was much slower than any dancing she’d ever done in the saloon. Already, she was chafing against the restraints of etiquette. She wanted to pick Blake up and twirl her around, but that would be frowned upon in this company.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

Immediately, Yang’s nose wrinkled at the title. She didn’t recognize the man, though he was dressed in the uniform of Schnee’s security team. “Yeah?”

“Faunus aren’t permitted past this point,” he told her formally, nodding at Blake. Both of them stared.

“She’s with me,” Yang replied curtly. Blake’s hand tightened its grip on her own.

“Orders are orders,” he said without apology. Yang narrowed her eyes.

“I’ll have you know--” she began, but then a new voice interrupted.

“Now, now, that’s no way to treat our _mayor_,” Schnee boomed, a little too cheerfully for Yang’s taste. He drawled out the last word in what had to have been mockery. “She and her Faunus partner are most welcome here.”

“Thank you, Jacques,” Yang replied stiffly. 

“I am so pleased you could make it,” he said, holding a hand out for her to shake. Eyes never leaving his, she shook it, and noted that he didn’t offer the same to Blake. “I’ve told young Whitley all about you.”

“Whitley.” Yang echoed. Schnee waved an arm in the direction of the manor.

“I believe he is getting acquainted with some of my guests,” he preened. “He’s already making himself quite at home here in Mantle.”

“I see…” It was hard, for Yang to keep her expression politely neutral, especially when he continued.

“Only here for a day, and he’s already on first-name terms with many of my associates!” He chuckled. “Whitley was always a precocious boy. I should have known he’d have a good head for business.”

Yang’s heart sank. Weiss’s fears may have had a basis in reality, after all.

“Well, I must be off. I believe I saw the Rosettes arrive…” Schnee looked over Yang’s shoulder, giving a short wave in greeting at someone behind her. Taking the dismissal, Yang pressed a hand against the small of Blake’s back, leading her away.

“He staged that,” Blake muttered, making their way toward the manor entrance. “He _wanted_ me to be stopped, so he could play the _gracious host_.”

She spat the words out with venom, and Yang nodded in somber agreement. “Just like he wanted us to hear about Whitley,” she said, coming to a halt. She shook her head in disbelief. “That bastard. He _is _gonna disinherit Weiss, ain’t he?”

“With all that talk about Whitley being good at business…” Blake grimaced. “He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was rubbing it in our faces.”

“We’ve gotta get her away from him. Move her in with Pyrrha or somethin’.”

“You know she won’t do that until he actually names Whitley as his successor.”

“So he’ll keep draggin’ it out, and make Weiss _think _there’s hope.” Yang balled her hands into fists. “That schemin’ sack of--”

“Hello, Yang!”

Yang and Blake nearly jumped at the greeting, unaware that someone had snuck up on them. But it was only Penny, her smile bright and her red hair pulled back with a pink ribbon. Yang managed a smile.

“Oh, hey there, Penny.”

“It’s so good to see you all again!” she gushed. “It’s been far too long!”

“Didn’t we just see you yesterday?” Blake asked, smiling good-humoredly. Penny tilted her head, thinking. 

“So we have!” she replied with a small laugh. “I guess time’s been going by slowly, waiting for this _soirée_!”

“Yeah… I just couldn’t wait.” Yang didn’t mean for it to sound so sarcastic, and Blake jabbed her in the side. Penny didn’t seem to be offended, for she giggled at Yang’s indignant squawk.

“So, maybe it’s a _little _boring,” Penny admitted, giving them a dramatic wink. “But the dancing is bound to be fun, right? And your gowns are _beautiful_! You’re going to steal the show on the dance floor!”

“Thank you so much,” Blake said, cheeks turning pink. Penny looked both of them up and down admiringly, pausing on Yang.

“I never realized before…” she commented thoughtfully. Yang raised an eyebrow, urging her to continue. “I’ve never seen so much of your _arms_ before! Just how big _are _your biceps?”

The question was so unexpected that Yang exploded into laughter, doubling over as much as her corset would allow her. Even Blake snorted with amusement, covering her mouth in a struggle to control herself. They had both nearly recovered from their laughing fits when Blake added, in a serious tone, “Yeah, Yang. Are you biceps huge, or just enormous?”

Yang smirked, bringing one up in a flex. Penny watched with fascination, and Blake’s eyes glittered delightedly, pupils expanding in what Yang knew was something akin to hunger.

“I give more than one kind of gun show,” Yang told them, pleased. Penny giggled, and Blake shook her head, bemused. A servant walked past them, carrying a tray, and Yang gave it a hard stare. “They’ve got food?”

“Of course!” Penny replied with a nod, pointing to the manor. “The spread here is _sensational_! There’s so much set up inside! Cakes, fruits, sweets…”

“And what’s the bet that a lot of it will go to waste?” Blake remarked bitterly.

“Once Ruby gets here, my bet is that there’s gonna be a lot _less_ waste,” Yang said, an attempt at keeping things light around Penny. “I swear, she’s a glutton for--”

“Is she not here yet?” Penny asked suddenly, looking around.

“She’s runnin’ a little late,” Yang explained. She had been meeting with one of the town’s blacksmiths, trying to convince one to let her forge the Gravity Dust into a weapon. The first one she’d spoken to had refused outright, with the excuse that he was worried the Dust would ruin his equipment. “She should be here soon, though.”

“That’s good.” Penny relaxed visibly, shoulders slumping in relief. “I don’t know many people here. I went looking for Weiss and Pyrrha, but they ran off.”

“Where to?” Yang asked, frowning. Penny shrugged.

“They didn’t say, but-- oh! Ruby!” And Penny was off, darting around a small throng of people. It took Yang a moment to even _see_ her sister. In a red and black dress instead of a poncho, without her hat, she fit in too well with the people around them. She watched as she said something to Penny, who pointed in their direction. Ruby looked up, waved, then resumed her chatter. Yang rolled her eyes.

“Of course she’s gonna ignore me,” Yang said with a dramatic sigh. “Sisters are so ungrateful.”

Blake chuckled, then took Yang by the hand. “Then let’s see if we can find Weiss.”

As Penny had told them, the entry hall of the manor was full of tables of food, and even more were on silver platters, being carried by servants. It was an interesting display of excess, especially considering that those in the Faunus quarter barely had enough food to live on. One servant offered them a tray, arranged neatly with little pastries. Yang took one, giving the servant a pleasant smile. He bowed his head, then moved on.

“So, this is how the other half lives,” Blake murmured. “This is… not something I ever expected I’d get to experience.”

“And I’m sure it’s nothin’ compared to parties in Atlas, or even Argus,” Yang agreed, taking a bite of the pastry. It was filled with a sort of strawberry jelly, and Yang’s only complaint was that the pastry was too small. Still, she offered Blake a bite.

“It’s just so _much_,” Blake commented, nibbling the corner of the pastry. “I’ve literally had times where I was starving, but here…” She shook her head in disbelief.

Yang popped the rest of the pastry into her mouth. She felt a small patch of stickiness on her lip from the jelly. She nudged Blake, leaning in to offer her mouth. Blake rolled her eyes, but couldn’t resist a smile. She tilted her chin up, kissing the corner of Yang’s mouth, tongue slipping out to lick at the jelly.

“You’re gonna get us kicked outta this party,” Ruby said grumpily, tapping Yang on the shoulder. With a guilty grin, Yang turned to look at her. Penny bobbed along behind her, though her green eyes were already darting to the tables of food.

“Not gonna happen,” Yang reassured her, smirking. “We’re being _good_ tonight.”

Ruby groaned. “I don’t _believe_ you.”

“Did you have any luck with the blacksmith?” Blake cut in. It was all the distraction Ruby needed, and she nodded vigorously.

“Yeah! She says she’s tinkered around with Dust before, and is curious to see what Gravity Dust can do. So I’m gonna go over there tomorrow afternoon and see if we can make it work.” When a servant passed by, Ruby leaned over, swiping a tiny cake from the tray. She popped it into her mouth and as she chewed, added, “And then we can test it out!”

“And you were worried about _our _behavior,” Yang muttered. Abashed, Ruby swallowed and gave a nervous laugh.

They lingered by the food spread, letting Ruby prattle on about her ideas for a Dust weapon, and how they might overcome one in a fight. Both Blake and Penny were nodding, enraptured by the conversation, but Yang found herself growing distracted. Her eyes kept flicking to the bared slope of Blake’s neck, to the glossy black waves than tumbled over her shoulders, to the delicate angle of her jaw and collarbone and the amethyst that glittered on her chest.

“Are you even listenin’ to me?” Ruby complained when she saw where Yang’s focus had drawn to. She snapped to attention, giving Ruby a cheerful, if bland, smile. Blake laughed, cheeks darkening with mild embarrassment.

“Yeah?”

“Unbelievable!” she groaned. “Yang Xiao Long, you are the _most _useless--”

“Weiss!” Penny called happily. “We’re over here!”

All four of them looked toward the hallway, where Weiss and Pyrrha emerged. Both of their cheeks were pink, and the guilty glance they exchanged spoke volumes. Yang tried to fight back a smirk.

“And where have _y’all_ been?” she asked pleasantly. Weiss cleared her throat, smoothing out her gown and slipping her monocle into place. She _did_ look lovely, in dark blue and silver, though the fabric seemed a little more wrinkled than Yang might have expected for a formal party. A tiny silver comb, almost like a tiara, had been slipped into the base of her braid.

“We were doin’ a little snoopin’ in Jacques’ office,” Pyrrha explained, pulling her long red hair out of its loose bun. “Tryin’ to see if he’d drawn up any inheritance paperwork.”

“Snoopin’,” Yang repeated. Weiss’s flush deepened. “Well, did y’all find anything good?”

“Nothing that we could find. So my position may still be secure.” Weiss seemed satisfied with her own news, and leaned slightly against Pyrrha. “It could just mean that Father brought Whitley here as a threat.”

“That’s… good.” Yang carefully avoided looking at Blake, worried they’d give away their own conclusion from their encounter with Schnee. A party wouldn’t be the right time to bring it up. “Has everything been all right, with him around?”

“It’s been… tolerable.”

“Aside from what he said about how Schnees have an image to maintain,” Pyrrha added dryly. A pained look crossed over Weiss’s face.

“What’s that mean?” Ruby asked, brow furrowing.

“It _means_ that he’s figured out, right away, that I’m more than just Weiss’s friend,” Pyrrha replied. She set a soothing hand on Weiss’s back. “Which is somethin’ Jacques never realized. We’re just not sure if Whitley’s told him yet.”

“If we’re lucky, he’ll only try to blackmail me with it,” Weiss remarked glumly.

“Why--?” Blake began, but stopped when Weiss shook her head.

“I’m workin’ class, Blake,” Pyrrha explained. “People like me don’t date people like Weiss.”

“And I _know _that Father will have a problem with it.”

“Shit,” Yang said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Weiss.”

Weiss sighed, staring distantly out the window. “But I’m not going to think about it tonight,” she said firmly. “I’ll deal with that when the time comes, but for now… let’s enjoy tonight while we can.”

It took some effort to drag Ruby away from the food, but the string quartet had picked up a lively beat. It wasn’t the kind of music where Yang could twirl Blake in circles, but it was better than the dismally slow waltzes that the upper class were so fond of.

She was loathe to switch partners, but that seemed to be what these dances called for. After the first song, she was shuffled away from Blake to give Weiss a turn. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she said she knew how to ballroom dance; she was even more graceful than Blake on this dance floor. All too soon, Weiss was swept to her next partner, and Yang found herself dancing with Ruby, then Penny, then Pyrrha.

“I don’t really get to dance with folks who’re taller than me,” Yang told Pyrrha with a laugh. She had to look _up _to see Pyrrha’s face, and Yang stumbled a little when Pyrrha began to lead. “And I ain’t a follower, either!”

“Well, you are now!” Pyrrha teased, giving Yang the smallest wink.

All good humor abandoned her, however, when Yang’s next partner ended up being a young man with white hair. He was petite, delicate, and looked too much like Weiss. Her smile faded as he placed a hand on her hip, guiding her around the dance floor. 

“So you’re the mayor,” he remarked. “It’s wonderful to meet you at last.”

“I take it you’re Whitley.” The man’s blue eyes blinked in surprise, and it took Yang a moment to understand that he probably wasn’t used to being addressed by his first name.

“That I am,” he replied, recovering smoothly. “Father speaks often of you.”

“Only good things, I hope.” Yang knew better, of course. Since the election, she highly doubted he had anything good to say about her at all. Whitley chuckled.

“He’s an ambitious man, my father. He cares deeply for this town, as I am sure you do, as well.” Yang watched his face warily; it seemed too light, too easy. “Which is why I have the upmost respect for you, Mayor Xiao Long.”

“I… What?” Yang blinked, taken aback. This wasn’t what she had been expecting from the youngest Schnee.

“You stand up for what you believe in,” he told her amiably. He stepped, changing their direction with the rest of the dancers. “It’s an admirable quality.”

“Well… thank you.” She regarded him suspiciously. Was this really the person who was the source of so much of Weiss’s grief?

“I must admit,” he continued, his words as smooth as the way he stepped in time with her. “I am a little starstruck, to be dancing with the famous gunslinger.”

Despite herself, Yang flushed. Out of everything he could have said, she _definitely_ wasn’t expecting the flattery.

“I’ve heard so many stories of your prowess. It’s no wonder my father asked you here as sheriff. I’m eager to see you in action. I was told you give demonstrations?”

“I do. I haven’t had as much time to lately, what with all the… happenin’s, around here, but maybe next week.”

Whitley nodded sagely. “Rest assured, I will be there. I’ve heard so many tales of what those guns of yours can do.”

Yang shot a quick glance over to Blake. She stood alone, arms folded across her chest, at the edge of the dance floor. In this sort of crowd, few people would deign to dance with a Faunus. Whitley followed her eyes, his lip curling when he realized what she was looking at.

“So that’s the Faunus who’s been giving Father so much trouble,” he remarked with a chuckle. Yang narrowed her eyes.

“Meanin’ what?”

“She _is_ pretty,” he remarked. “If you’re into that sort of thing.”

Yang stiffened. “You ain’t to talk about her,” she told him lowly. The song began to slow, giving Whitley the opportunity to raise his hands in surrender.

“I meant nothing by it,” he replied mildly. The last bars played out, though Yang had already stopped dancing to stare daggers at Whitley. He made no comment on it, instead choosing to give Yang a bow. “I do hope to share a dance with you again soon, Mayor Xiao Long.”

As he moved onto his next partner, Yang had to break away from the throng. She pushed past other partygoers toward Blake, too unnerved to worry about simple things like manners. 

“Was that Whitley?” Blake asked, troubled. Yang nodded. “What did he want?”

“I’m… not really sure.” She glanced back at him one more time, then shook her head. “I couldn’t tell if he was bein’ nice, or sarcastic, or what.”

“I’d suspect the latter,” Blake replied with a grimace. “After everything Weiss and Pyrrha have been saying…”

“Yeah,” Yang sighed. “Gods, I hate the way these people act. They talk pretty to your face, but they’re all schemin’ to put a dagger in your back. You’d think they’d all cut loose at a party, but…” She shrugged helplessly.

It was another hour before they returned to the dance floor, opting to nibble on finger sandwiches and make smalltalk. They tried to ignore the disdainful looks thrown in their direction, the outright stares at Blake’s ears. It was a relief when Nora found them, pouncing on Blake was a gleeful cackle. Jaune and Ren followed close behind, Ren shaking his head in exasperation.

“I can’t say I’ve ever been to a party like this before!” Nora exclaimed, snatching a glass of wine from the tray of a passing servant. “Usually, _I’m _the one pourin’ the drinks!”

“And it ain’t usually wine,” Jaune pointed out.

Blake had already taken a glass for herself, taking dainty sips that left stains of lipstick on the glass.

“I don’t usually like to get drunk on wine,” Nora told them with a dramatic sigh. “But it might be the only way I get through the night!”

“So y’all’re havin’ just as much fun as we are?” Yang asked, amused. Nora snorted. 

“If this is what rich folk do to have _fun_, then I’m glad I ain’t rich.” She downed her wine in a few gulps, making a face when she’d finished.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to drink it like that,” Ren commented, but Nora rolled her eyes.

“I don’t have much of a choice here, Ren,” she replied, then nudged him in the side. “You ready to dance?”

She didn’t wait for a response before grabbing his arm, dragging him to the dance floor. Jaune laughed, then darted after them.

“Are we gonna let them have all the fun?” Blake asked in a low murmur. Yang grinned.

Penny and Ruby were no longer on the dance floor, but Yang couldn’t say she was surprised. Ruby had never been much of a dancer, even in saloons. Likely, she had made herself comfortable somewhere in the manor, with easy access to the little cakes and sweets. Weiss, however, was still there, dancing slowly with Pyrrha. They were close enough that Yang had been positive Weiss would lean her head against Pyrrha’s shoulder, but she never crossed that line. There was too much at stake to allow a slip like that, and for that, Yang was saddened.

At least she could enjoy her dances with Blake. The faster waltzes of the early evening had moved to slower ones as the night progressed. There were fewer changes of partners, and even when there were, Yang didn’t partake. There was only one woman she truly wanted to dance with that night.

“Have I mentioned how gorgeous you look tonight, baby?” Yang asked, letting her eyes travel down the gold fabric of Blake’s bodice. As her chest rose and fell, so too did the amethyst necklace she wore. Blake gave an amused huff.

“You may have said it a time or two,” she admitted, reaching a hand to Yang’s jaw. Slowly, she dragged her fingers along it, down Yang’s neck. It sent a shiver down her spine. “I don’t hold a candle to you, though.”

Yang tutted. “Don’t even start this game with me.”

“I’ve already started the game, finished it, and won, my love.”

This made Yang laugh. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Blake’s mouth. A few heads turned nearby, but Yang paid them no attention. She was in Blake’s world now, and it was probably the best world to be in.

Blake’s smile was magnetic, and Yang couldn’t stop staring at her darkly-painted lips. They were so alluring, and it was taking all of Yang’s willpower to keep herself from kissing them again and again and again, till she had taken all the color to herself. Blake might have been thinking the same thing, for her golden eyes darted to Yang’s.

“Truly, you should dress like this more often,” she remarked, eyes drifting lower, and Yang was suddenly of how her cleavage pressed against the edges of her corset. She grinned.

“It’s prob’ly best if I don’t,” she replied seriously. “It seems to be pretty distractin’.”

Blake looked back up into Yang’s eyes, cheeks darkening in a blush. “Shut up,” she muttered, and Yang laughed aloud. Around her, people led their partners into a slow twirl, so Yang did the same with Blake. Yang watched as the darker gold of Blake’s skirt fanned out around her ankles.

“I could say the same about your dress, though,” Yang replied, her hand finding its way back to Blake’s waist. She leaned closer, brushing her lips against Blake’s ear. “I wouldn’t mind seein’ you in a corset more often.”

Blake’s eyes twinkled under the soft lights. “Well,” she said, slow and calculating, “I could always wear it again for you. Anytime.”

Yang gulped, trying to look _anywhere _but at her cleavage right then. Still, her eyes flitted down to her revealed collarbone.

“I’d like that,” she murmured huskily. Blake’s smile was wicked.

“You know what I’d like?” she asked, her voice even lower than before. Their bodies drifted closer. The heat was engulfing them. “I’d like to take you home. I’d like to take a closer look at _your _corset.”

“Oh yeah?” Yang breathed. Blake hummed, but there was something more to that sound than amusement. She paused, then looked around to make sure no one was listening before she added, “I was more wonderin’ how you’d take it off.”

Yang could see the hitch in Blake’s chest as her breath caught, then the bob of her throat as she swallowed. “That’s… a very good thought,” she agreed.

Their gazes held, and Yang’s hand curled around Blake’s waist. There was a brief moment of frustration, where she begrudged the stiff fabric that kept her from feeling the softness of Blake’s skin. Blake must have felt it, too, for she licked her lips, making the rich color glisten.

“I’d like you to take me home,” Blake repeated softly. Their bodies had slowed down to a gentle sway, hardly an excuse for a dance. “So I can rip that dress off of you.” She paused, the brief silence a threat in itself. “I can’t wait to touch you.”

“_Shit_.” Yang felt a throb between her legs, and watched as Blake’s pupils expanded.

“As soon as I can get you home,” Blake went on dangerously, “I want to feel you inside of me.”

Yang cursed again, feeling her own wetness as she shifted her legs. “Them’s dangerous words, Belladonna,” she replied. She leaned in closer. “We might not make it home if you keep that up.”

“Is that a promise?” Blake batted her eyelashes. “Because I’m so wet that I don’t think I can last that long, anyway.”

The song came to an end, the last notes of the string quartet coming to a pleasant end. Yang took advantage of the transition, seizing Blake by the wrist and pulling her off the dance floor and away from the crowd. She led her back into the manor, past the tables of food, and Blake followed with an eager step. Yang knew the manor better than Blake, knew its dark corners and empty hallways. There was a small alcove where Schnee kept a bust of someone who looked suspiciously like himself. But in it, there was plenty of space.

The minute they stepped into the alcove, Yang whirled Blake around and pinned her against the wall. She bent her head, burying her face in the crook of Blake’s neck, kissing it wildly, exploring the slope of her collarbone down to the center of her chest.

“Your… lipstick…” Blake managed to protest, though it came out very weak. Yang huffed, nipping at the skin on the edge of the corset. 

“You shoulda thought about that before teasin’ me,” she murmured. She angled her hips against Blake’s, grinding against them slowly. “And now you get to deal with the consequences.”

Blake whined as Yang lifted her head up. Her eyes explored Blake’s skin hungrily, taking her time, stretching the pause into something that was nearly painful for both of them. Impatiently, Blake rolled her hips against Yang’s harder, faster.

“I don’t think I’m gonna touch you yet,” Yang breathed, and the sound Blake made could’ve been a sob. “We’re not monsters, y’know. Only monsters run away from a party to fuck.”

“Do I look like I care?” Blake pleaded. The heaving of her chest was absolutely mesmerizing. “Yang, please, I need you to fuck me. Now. _Please_.”

“It wouldn’t be very polite, y’know,” Yang said, somehow managing to keep a hold of her patience. “Imagine the scandal, the mayor and her Faunus girlfriend, fuckin' in the middle of a fancy party…”

“I’m imagining it, yes. _Please_. Do it.”

Yang had every intention of making Blake wait, to tease long and hard. She had plans for when they got home, and she hadn't intended to start them at the Schnee manor. But then Blake looked at her, pupils blown and expression desperate, and there was something in her helplessness that Yang simply couldn't resist any longer.

She pulled up Blake's skirts to a small moan of relief. Still, she waited an agonizing moment, dragging her short fingernails up across an exposed thigh. She was hot to the touch, and dripping. Yang couldn't hold back a sharp intake of breath.

"_Fuck_," she groaned, fingers skimming her slit. "Gods, baby, you're so fuckin' _wet_."

Blake whimpered as Yang began to fuck her slowly, two fingers curling into her. She bit her lip, nearly moaning at the way Blake responded to her touch, hips canting violently against her hand, barely-restrained moans that she choked back in her throat. She palmed Blake's clit, which seemed to be the trigger for her voice.

"Fuck, Yang, _fuck _me," she pleaded, her begging rising in a crescendo. Yang shot a quick look down the hall, to make sure nobody was around to her. They would certainly get kicked out of the manor if they were caught, but at the same time, Yang wanted to hear _more_. So she pressed harder, faster. She nuzzled Blake’s neck, biting, feeling the flutter of Blake’s pulse against her lips and her tongue.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t draw out the pleasure for too long. There would be plenty of time for that later. Yang smirked, lifting her face away from Blake’s neck and the marks she’d left there, pleased at the effect she was having on Blake. More than anything, she wanted to fall to her knees and taste her, but she needed to stay upright. If they were caught, it would be harder to play off if her face was between Blake’s legs.

Later, she reminded herself. When they got home, she would be free to do all of that to Blake, and then some.

Unable to take the pressure anymore, Blake’s head knocked back against the wall, mouth gasping open. She came suddenly, violently, her entire body heaving against Yang’s hand. Yang didn’t move it, even as she felt Blake throb around her fingers. Only after the spasms began to subside did Yang pull away. It felt like her entire hand was soaked, and she wiped it on Blake’s underskirt.

“You’re so hot,” Yang murmured into her ear. Blake’s skirts fluttered back down around her ankles. At first, she didn’t reply. She only drew in a sharp inhale, then blew it out slowly.

“We,” she said as she caught her breath, “need to go home. Now.”

And how could Yang argue with that?

She wasn’t quite sure how they got out of the house, or how they managed to walk home. She spared Ruby only the briefest consideration before dismissing the thought. She could get home on her own, and Yang had more important things to think about: how soaking wet she was, how her whole body pulsed like the ever-churning tide. And Blake…

The minute the door was shut behind them, Blake whirled Yang toward the table. Her strength caught Yang off-guard, so she nearly fell backward onto the table when Blake pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. Hurriedly, Yang's arms circled around her, pulling her in close. Blake wedged herself between her legs, pulling Yang’s skirts up urgently while taking care to not break their kiss.

The relief Yang felt with Blake’s hand against her was unparalleled, and she didn’t hold back any sounds of appreciation. She moaned and cursed into Blake’s mouth, writhing against her, pinned to the table.

Blake knew what she was doing when she drew her hand back, pushing herself up to smirk down at Yang. Her chest heaved frantically as she whined, wriggling beneath Blake’s weight, and then Blake was kissing her chest, lips crawling messily across her collarbone to her cleavage. Yang combed her fingers into Blake’s hair, running through it with growing desperation.

“Blake,” she groaned, and Blake chuckled darkly. Already, she was moving, sliding lower down Yang’s body, though her hand lingered for an extra moment on the edge of Yang’s corset before trailing down. She curled one arm around Yang’s leg, holding her steady as she began to lick.

When Blake’s tongue circled her clit, Yang shot a hand out to the edge of the table, grabbing tight as she rolled her head to the side. It felt too good-- every muscle in her body had been taut with expectation all night, and now that it was finally being touched, Yang felt like she’d shatter. She let out a groan that was close to a sob, unrestrained and wild. It was too much, and too good.

She managed to let go of the table, to push herself up on her elbows, so that she could watch. A curl of Blake’s hair had fallen into her face, and Yang reached a shaking hand out to tuck it behind her ear. Blake chose that moment to look up, her tongue running over her lower lip. Her eyelashes fluttered, each one so long and fine. They framed her golden eyes beautifully; in the light, they shone, and her chin glistened.

“You taste so good, Yang,” she murmured, and Yang’s thighs clenched. Again, she began to comb her fingers through Blake’s hair, knotting them more and more tightly in her long black locks as Blake flattened her tongue. She couldn’t take her eyes away, feeling her expression crumble as Blake drove her tongue inside, deeper. She gasped Blake’s name, that sweet sound as necessary as the air she drew in with it.

It didn’t take her long to completely fall apart, whole body shuddering as she curled forward, now digging both hands into Blake’s hair. She held fast as she cried out, keeping Blake’s head against her as she bucked against her mouth. Even then, Blake didn’t stop her tongue, only slowing down. As Yang panted, finally releasing her hair, Blake kissed her thigh and traced her fingertips along her skin, down to Yang’s knee.

“Gods, baby,” she finally croaked out. After all the tension and buildup and stiffened muscles, Yang felt like she was melting onto the tabletop. She sank backwards, hands falling to either side of her face. She closed her eyes. “_Fuck_.”

Blake’s responding laugh was low, and Yang felt the light pressure of fingers climbing up the strings of her corset.

It took Yang a moment to remember there had even been a party at all. The discomfort of that night had all faded into a pleasant fog. None of that night had mattered at all. Not really. Not when she was able to come home with the woman she loved, to cum against her mouth, to feel all the soft, warm adoration saturate every fiber of her being. Life could still be good, even when the rest of the world was in chaos.

She sat up again slowly as her energy began to trickle back into her. She took a deep breath, an unconscious grin spreading across her face as she did so.

“This… is about a hundred times better than that damned party,” she commented, sliding off the table. While her dress had protected the table from the worst of her wetness, they would have to give the poor table a thorough cleaning. Later, of course.

She still had plans.

“I don’t know,” Blake replied, plucking absently at the corset strings without loosening them quite yet. “It got pretty good at the end there.”

Still grinning, Yang leaned in, kissing her insistently, tasting herself on Blake’s lips. “Oh, that?” Yang asked, shrugging nonchalantly. “That was nothin’.”

“Oh?” Blake asked, eyebrow raised, but not arguing. It was a challenge, and Yang could see anticipation flash across her face. Yang gave a lazy, singular nod.

“I may…” Yang strolled around her as if she were encircling prey, intending to take her time unlacing Blake’s bodice, “have a little surprise for you.”

“I see,” Blake said casually, but her breathing began to quicken, and Yang felt it in the give and take of the dress’s fabric. “What might that surprise be?”

Yang said nothing as she slowly began to strip her. The only problem with dresses like this was that they were so complicated. There was no graceful way to help Blake out of her dress, and her hands fumbled in her own impatience. She was rewarded when Blake finally stepped out of it, carefully setting her dress atop the table before turning around to Yang. For a moment, she stood, naked save for the delicate necklace around her neck, its amethyst glinting in the light. She tilted her head before stepping forward, placing her hands at Yang’s waist, sliding them slowly up and down the stiff fabric.

It took all of Yang’s self-restraint to not bend her over the table then; Blake was beautiful in a way that could make Yang forget everything about self-control. She wrapped one arm around her, running her fingers up Blake’s bare spine.

“Go to the bedroom,” Yang told her softly. “And I’ll show you.”

She was slightly surprised by how quick Blake was to obey; she’d expected a _little _kickback, but she supposed Blake was too intrigued to argue. When they got to the bedroom, Yang drew her in for another kiss. When her fingers reached for the laces of Yang’s corset, she didn’t stop her, allowing Blake to loosen them. It was a relief, to be out of its tight confines, where Blake could finally touch her skin. She cupped one of Yang’s breasts in her hands, toying with a nipple while Yang sighed into her mouth.

When she finally stepped out of her dress, she nodded in the direction of the bed. Blake looked up, eyes glinting in the darkness. Just as obediently, she went to it and sat on its edge expectantly, watching with rapt attention as Yang pulled open a drawer of their dresser.

“Hair creams weren’t the only thing I ordered,” she explained in a low tone, running a thumb over the leather. She smirked. “Though I’m sure Ruby’d murder me if she knew exactly what I had her send for.”

Blake’s gaze never wavered as Yang adjusted the brass buckles. “What’s--” she began, but when Yang fit the toy into place, her eyes widened in understanding. “_Oh_.”

When she joined Blake at the bed, she paused, running a hand through Blake’s hair. It had been carefully combed for the party, and it had curled in pretty waves over her shoulders. It was a tangled mess now, but Yang thought she’d never looked more perfect.

“Lay down,” she murmured.

Again, Blake obeyed. Yang climbed over her, hair tumbling around them as she kissed Blake’s neck again, and again, and again. She sucked at the smooth flesh, nipping her way to her collarbone, the toy pressed threateningly against Blake’s stomach. She sucked in an inhale, looking up at Yang hungrily.

“Please,” she said, voice husky with need.

“Please what?”

Blake _growled_ then, adjusting herself like she was going to sit up, but Yang halted her, grabbing her wrists and pinning them to the mattress.

“Please what?” she repeated dangerously. It seemed like Blake swallowed with her whole body; Yang could feel it in the slight twitch of her wrists.

“Fuck me,” she gasped. “Please, fuck me.”

Yang shifted one of Blake’s wrist to her other hand, holding both over her head as she slipped her free hand down; Blake was soaked, possibly even more now than at the manor. She was going to ruin the sheets, and Yang hadn’t even gotten started. Slowly, she pressed the tip against her cunt, and Blake’s whole body tensed in anticipation.

She never took her eyes from Blake’s face, watching the way it fell apart with each agonizing inch. It was a beautiful metamorphosis, from restraint to unbridled fulfillment. The way her eyes squeezed shut, the way her mouth stretched open, the way her ears flattened into her hair…

It was perfect.

As she began to pump her hips, her mouth found its way to Blake’s skin again, running over her body carelessly, her head moving almost faster than her lips could keep up with. She paused over one of Blake’s breasts, to wrap her lips around a nipple and suck. Blake made several choking gasps, each getting louder and louder until it was a full, loud moan.

Yang relaxed her grip on her wrists, and Blake’s hands immediately shot to the blanket, fisting it in her hands. Her legs came up to circle Yang’s back, urging her deeper. She panted Yang’s name, the sound broken up between curses and grunts. Yang released her nipple with a sloppy wet _pop_, suddenly aching to see Blake’s expressions once more.

“You’re so beautiful,” Yang murmured, adjusting slightly. The new angle drew a sharper gasp from Blake, and Yang’s lips curled delightedly. “So _fuckin’_ beautiful.”

Blake couldn’t respond. At least, not with words. Her moans were so loud that Yang would have been concerned if Ruby had been around. But they were alone, so Yang reveled in the sound.

When Blake’s breaths began to get shallower and she began to spasm, Yang didn’t slow her pace. She did, however, bring her face close to Blake’s, enough so that she could feel the heat of her breath against her lips. She ran a finger down Blake’s side, over her hips, and around to her front, brushing the pads of her fingers over her clit with the lightest of touches.

“That’s it, baby,” she said softly. “Cum for me.”

Blake’s back arched, and her legs tightened harder around Yang’s waist as she convulsed with a loud cry. Yang eased up on her thrusts, though she didn’t pull out. She only sat inside of Blake, waiting for her to catch her breath. Even as she began to relax, Blake shivered again, though it was followed by a slowly-widening smile.

“Yang…” she groaned, looking down to where Yang’s hips still pressed against her. “_Gods_.”

Yang chuckled, then slowly began to slide out of her, cum stringing. Blake groaned a little, shifting with the barest minimum of effort. She accepted a gentle kiss from Yang, reaching up to cradle her cheek in her hand.

“Holy _fuck_,” she murmured, and Yang smirked. Blake’s face was flushed, sweat smearing her makeup, but she almost seemed to glow in the moonlight that leaked through the curtains. When Yang urged her to turn over, she did so eagerly, her legs shaking before her knees hit the mattress. Yang slid a hand over the curve of her ass and up her spine, almost hypnotized by the smoothness of her skin.

And then she thrust herself in again, breaking the spell, and Blake’s moans echoed long into the night.

\--

There was a loud, angry slam of the door, and it spoke to Yang’s exhaustion that she didn’t immediately jump up in bed. Blake didn’t even rouse from where she’d curled against Yang’s side, face buried in Yang's neck and one arm jammed under the pillow. With a small sigh, Yang rolled over, dislodging her. The sun was so _bright_, and she squinted. 

“I guess Ruby’s home,” she croaked. Beside her, Blake slept on. The sheets beneath Yang were still damp, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine what they were like for Blake. She smirked a little to herself, then pushed herself out of bed. For a moment, she gazed tenderly down at Blake. Her lips were still swollen, and she was covered in red lipstick stains and small dark bruises, beautifully ruined. Yang lowered her head, brushing her lips against her forehead before staggering to the dresser. Hips throbbing, she managed to dig out a nightshirt, pulling it over herself in order to face her sister.

“I had to stay the night at _Penny’s_!” Ruby erupted as soon as Yang closed the bedroom door behind her. She glared at Yang, arms crossed over a shirt she had probably borrowed. “We walked back here last night, me thinkin’ I’d be a good host by offerin’ her some tea or somethin’, but y’know what we got instead?!”

“I can’t imagine,” Yang remarked tiredly, sinking into one of the kitchen chairs.

“_Scarred for life!_” Ruby screeched.

As funny as it was, Yang didn’t have the energy to do more than give her sister a shit-eating grin.

“I feel dirty for for _hearin'_ the things I heard last night, and poor Penny..." She shook her head in disgust. "You said you were gonna be _good_! Gods, you ain’t even sorry, are you?!” she added, voice shrill.

“Definitely not.”

“I am _traumatized!_”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Ruby growled, and marched past her and toward her room. However, before opening the door, she paused. “_Before_ I stop speakin’ to you for the rest of the day--”

“Is that a promise?” Yang asked impishly, and Ruby narrowed her eyes.

“--I was gonna tell you that you’ve got a package on the front step.”

“Huh?” Yang raised an eyebrow. She’d already gotten the things she’d ordered from Argus (she _definitely _got them, she thought with amusement), so she wasn’t expecting any packages.

“It looked heavy, and after last night, I am _not _doin’ you any favors by bringin’ it in.”

“Jerk,” Yang called out. The door slammed, and she chuckled. A moment later, her own bedroom door opened and Blake peeked her head out.

“Ruby?” she asked.

“Ruby.” Yang nodded, giving Blake a wicked smirk. “How’re you feelin’ this mornin’, baby?”

Gingerly, Blake hobbled over to her, leaning low for a kiss. “I feel like I need to lie back down,” she said with a small smile of her own. “If Ruby hadn’t woken me up--”

“I’d offer to kick her ass, but apparently she suffered enough last night.”

Blake hummed in amusement, pulling out a chair and lowering herself into it slowly. “It was worth it.”

“Totally.” With a sigh, Yang pushed herself up. “Hold on just a sec. Ruby says I’ve got a package outside.”

“I don’t think I can handle any more of your mail-order purchases,” Blake said with a laugh. Yang gave her a wink before going to the door.

She didn’t bother to close it behind her. The crate was right by the door, nondescript and unlabelled. Yang frowned. It didn’t even have an address on it. Only their names had been scrawled onto the top.

_YANG XIAO LONG AND BLAKE BELLADONNA_

“What is it?” Blake called, but Yang didn’t respond. She hefted the box up, and nearly dropped it with a gasp. Something inside had leaked onto the wooden step, thick and congealed. Dread welled up inside her as she looked at the bottom of the box. There was a dark stain.

“Blake?” she said slowly. “I don’t think I can bring this inside. Bring me somethin’ to open this with?”

Blake handed her a poker, staring at the stains as Yang set the crate back down. Wordlessly, Yang took it, jamming it into the lid and prying it open.

Numb horror took root in her stomach, spreading its icy tendrils along her veins. Blake immediately spun away, bending over the railing as she gagged. Yang couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. She’d frozen in place, staring at the contents of the threatening box.

“It was him,” Blake was gasping. At her words, Yang jerked her head up to stare at her. “He did this. He _did _this.”

Yang’s eyes were drawn back to the crate. She looked so differently in daylight, Yang thought distantly, but she would have recognized that red jewel anywhere. It glittered in the sunlight.

Sienna Khan’s head stared up at Yang, her lifeless eyes accusatory in death. Tucked in next to the head was a note, stained with blood.

_NO DEALS WITH HUMANS_

“He… He _did_ this,” Blake repeated, her voice rising in pitch with panic. “Gods, he _killed _her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene with the biceps is a HEAVY reference to Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir. I just could NOT resist. Go out and read it! It's about lesbian necromancers in space and I'm slightly obsessed.
> 
> Also, big thanks again to my beta Aziminil (and her constant "HERE'S HOW YOU CAN MAKE THIS HOTTER" advice. I'd be doomed without you, darling).
> 
> oh MAN I'm sorry for the delay y'all. I got sucked into Fire Emblem hell (like FE3H? I sorta wrote an [Edeleth oneshot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21509557) because I am weak), and then I've been doing a lot of packing, so my schedule is a bit screwed up rn.
> 
> And there's going to be more delays! I'm moving this week (back to Maine!!) and I'll be roadtripping for a bit, so my time to write will be extremely limited. I'm hoping I can get back on my schedule once things settle down, but from this point on, I'll only be updating when I can. Follow my tumblr and twitter for updates!


	13. Chapter 13

It wasn’t like they could leave Sienna’s head on the doorstep.

With a calm that surprised even herself, Yang covered the box back up and ushered Blake inside, taking her arm and leading her to their bedroom. Blake didn’t fight her; she followed with an unsteady gait, eyes glazing as she stared ahead of her. Yang lay her back down on the bed, then bent over to pick her legs up. She set them on the bed gently, as if they were fragile enough to break. Automatically, Blake curled in on herself.

“I need to go take care of… that,” Yang told her softly, drawing the blanket over her trembling form, trying not to make it seem like she was hurrying. She needed to get the box somewhere out of sight, and quickly, but she wasn’t going to just abandon Blake like this. “I’ll be right back though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Blake echoed hollowly. She continued to stare at the wall in front of her.

“I’ll be right back,” Yang promised again. Blake nodded, a singular half-hearted bob of the head. 

There would be no way Yang could get away with digging a hole in broad daylight, not without going deep into the desert. Burying it too close to town would risk discovery, and discovery would lead to panic. Nobody-- not the council, not even her own sister-- had known that she had secretly met with the leader of the White Fang. What would the reaction be, if someone were to catch her burying the head of its leader in the desert? No; it would be best to wait until nightfall before burying what was left of Sienna Khan.

She hefted the box up, careful not to touch the congealed blood. It left a stain on the wooden step, but that was something she could make an excuse for if someone asked her about it. Paint, or a wound, or spilled food. Nobody would need to know the specifics.

Nobody would need to know _anything_.

She set the box in the shed at the back of her house. It would be out of the sun, if not the heat, but it was nowhere near the roads or walking paths of Mantle. Even if it smelled, she doubted anyone would notice it. That night, she could go back out and dig a hole for the box. It wasn’t the burial a woman like Sienna deserved, but it was the best Yang would be able to offer her.

When she got back to their bedroom, Blake’s eyes were still open and staring. She’d gone deathly pale, though she no longer shook.

“He killed her,” Blake said, her voice dead. Yang pulled back the blankets, slipping in beside her. “Adam. He did this.”

“We don’t know that,” Yang protested, a vain attempt to convince herself as much as Blake.

“You know it was.” She didn’t meet Yang’s eyes. She never moved her gaze from the wall. “I should have known he’d do something like this. He’s never wanted to work with the humans, only to overthrow them. I just didn’t think he’d… Sienna…”

Her voice cracked, and Yang pulled Blake against her, wrapping her arms around her tightly. Blake shuddered, accepting the embrace and the little comfort it gave her.

“You couldn’ta known he’d do somethin’ like this,” Yang murmured. Blake clutched at her nightshirt, clinging, as she buried her face in Yang’s chest. “He’s insane.”

“I-- I should’ve--” Blake began, choking on her words as a sob tore free from her throat. Yang made soft, shushing sounds, running her fingers around Blake’s drooping ears, through her hair. She kissed the top of her head, holding her tighter as hot tears seeped into Yang’s shirt.

Out of everything she’d been through, Yang realized, _this_\-- a death, at the hands of her former lover--had been the only thing to have made Blake break down. When she left the White Fang, the night she’d threatened Adam, she’d been so bold and fierce, despite her fear. Then, she had accepted her own arrest, and had faced her own execution with such courage. She dealt with sneers and harsh words on a daily basis, yet she weathered them all with grace.

Now, Adam had killed someone, just to make a point.

Now, Blake crumpled.

“It’ll be okay,” Yang said, brushing her fingers along Blake’s shuddering back. “You’ll see. We can get through this.”

Blake pulled back, drawing in shaky gasps. She shook her head, almost wildly. “But we _can’t_. Not if Adam’s…”

She swallowed hard after she said his name, then shook her head again.

“We’ll just negotiate with the next leader,” Yang told her soothingly, though a cold dart of doubt was working its way into her heart. The message in the box (_NO DEALS WITH HUMANS_) had been perfectly clear. Blake coughed, still shaking her head.

“I’d bet my life that Adam’s the leader now.”

Yang said nothing. For some reason, Blake’s statement didn’t even surprise her. He was already considered _a_ leader in the White Fang. Why wouldn’the take Sienna’s position for himself? It would make sense. Who else would authorize leaving a head on someone’s doorstep?

She would have to kill him, Yang knew. The next time she got near him, there was no way she could let him run free. She had to figure out how to work around his sword.

She had no other choice.

“Without anyone to stop him…” Blake continued, pitch creeping up with growing panic. “Gods, Yang, he could attack this town at any time! We need to evacuate Mantle!”

Blake lurched, moving to get up, as if she planned on organizing an evacuation right then, but Yang held on. Blake didn’t struggle, only collapsing against Yang with near limpness.

“We ain’t gonna evacuate,” Yang said quietly. “We can take the White Fang.”

“We _can’t_.”

“We _can_.” Yang’s eyes glittered as she eased Blake to lay back down in bed. “We can train up more of the townsfolk to fight. Hell, we should prob’ly do that anyway, for Grimm attacks. And Ruby and I are workin’ on figurin’ out how to deal with his sword. We’ll stop him, Blake.”

“He’ll kill us.”

“He can try.” Yang leaned over her, trying to infuse her kiss with reassurance. “But we’ll stop him.”

“He’ll have people working with him,” Blake replied quietly. “He has… a following, y’know.”

“A following?”

“Yeah.” Blake sucked in a breath as Yang lay down beside her. She pressed herself close to Yang’s body, seeking comfort. Even then, a couple tears streamed out of her eyes, and Yang thumbed them away tenderly. “He’s… always been a sort of hero for the people in the Fang. People always looked to him as a… a legend. An icon. Did I ever tell you that he used to be indentured?”

“_What?_” Yang stared at Blake, eyes wide. Blake nodded.

“The indenture system has been in place for years,” she went on, wiping furiously at her eyes. “Nobody really used it on such a massive scale until Schnee took over the SDC, but there have always been mining towns, filled with Faunus. Adam was born on one, and he was contracted the moment he could sign his name.”

Yang grimaced, but nodded. It was a standard, if deplorable, practice. Indentured parents, only given rations for themselves, struggled to feed their children. Through indenture, at least those children could receive rations of their own. Usually, it was the only way to keep them from starving.

“He was twelve, the first time he tried to run away,” Blake said quietly. “He got off with just a beating that time. The mine belonged to a smaller company, and they weren’t as ruthless as the SDC is now. And then that mine sold out to the SDC, and things got worse. The second time Adam ran, they used him as an example.”

Blake’s tone had hardened at the last few words, and Yang closed her eyes, imagining. She knew what an _example_ would entail. However, she couldn’t remember seeing a brand on Adam’s cheek. She frowned.

“He got… branded?” she asked uncertainly, eyes opening. Blake nodded.

“But he was the first person this foreman had ever branded,” she added slowly. “And he… botched it.”

“How do you botch a branding?

“By not holding the head in place properly.” Blake sighed. “Adam always said that the foreman did it on purpose, but I spoke once with a woman who saw it happen. She said Adam jerked his head at the last minute. Either way, it amounted to the same thing. He was branded across the eye instead of his cheek.”

“His _eye_?” Yang asked, horrified.

There was a deadness in Blake’s expression as she nodded again. “When he ran away a _third _time, he actually made it. It didn’t take him long to find the White Fang-- helping runaways was one of the main reasons it existed in the first place. When Adam joined, and started talking about his experience… The brand was just a testament to human cruelty. Every one of us who saw that brand became angry, myself included. We wanted to do everything we could to stop it from happening to anyone else. If we didn’t hate humans before, we certainly did then.”

“Branding turned him into a martyr.”

“Exactly. Even when he began to talk about fighting back, and _taking our rightful place_… it sounded _right_. It was justified. He made us want revenge, for all the things they’d done to us… to _him_. It must have made enough people angry, to find out Sienna had made a deal with us, however unlikely it was that we could have pulled through.” Blake exhaled, the breath jagged and broken, then closed her eyes. “I’m sure if Adam had known about that meeting, he would have killed all of us on the spot. Instead, he just used it as an excuse to kill Sienna.”

Yang pushed strands of dark hair away from Blake’s sticky forehead. She could almost _see_ the shadow that began to engulf Blake, with all its guilt, shame, and an ever-growing fear. Yang tightened her arms around her, trying to keep that darkness back.

“If I hadn’t left…” Blake’s voice trailed off, so soft that Yang almost didn’t hear it.

“What?” Yang pulled her head back, cupping Blake’s cheek and urging her to look at her. “You can’t be blamin’ yourself for what happened.”

“He wouldn’t have killed Sienna if I hadn’t left,” Blake said, voice rising, but still sounding weak. It was like she _wanted_ to snap at Yang, to fight, but didn't have the energy for it. It made Yang’s heart hurt. “If I’d only done my job--”

“Would you have been happy?” Yang asked quietly. “Is that what you woulda wanted?”

Blake said nothing, though she did not look away. Adam’s treatment of her was still too fresh a memory to be brushed aside. Her brows furrowed, and Yang could see her eyes were glassing over again.

“You’re… incredible, Blake,” Yang said, trying to smile even as Blake’s tears began to seep between her fingertips. “You saw there was somethin’ wrong with what he was doin’, and even though you were scared… you left him anyway. You left the Fang! I’m not sure if I woulda been brave enough to do what you did. And you didn’t even stop there! Now, you’re tryin’ to do what the White Fang _shoulda _been doin’ in the first place. You’re _still _doin’ whatever you can to create peace. Gods, and you’ve taught _me_. You’ve taught me so much. And all of that… That’s more noble than any of the stories they tell about me in saloons, Blake. _You’re _the one people should be toastin’.”

Yang was relieved when this made Blake let out a choked laugh, the color in her cheeks going from blotchy to a more uniform blush. “I haven’t done anything to warrant a saloon story.”

“I’ll make one, and I’ll spread it all over Remnant!”

“Yang…” Despite her tone, Blake was finally smiling. “You’re… being ridiculous.”

"If I had a lien for every time I heard that...”

Blake’s ears twitched, a little bit of good humor finally lightening her features. Gods, it was such a relief to see that, and her smile. Blake had been scared, yes, but not completely shattered. Despite the violence, despite the death, Adam couldn’t snare her in his grip. Yang kissed her softly.

“I love you,” she murmured. “You’re so strong. None of this is on you. It’s all on him.”

_And me_, Yang thought darkly, as Blake’s heavily-lidded eyes fluttered shut. Unlike Blake, Yang _did_ deserve a share of the blame for Sienna’s death. If she hadn’t pushed so hard…

She blinked hard, trying to dispel the guilty thoughts. Never again. He would never have a chance to do this to anyone else.

Her guns would see to that.

\--

“Now, don’t get your hopes up,” Ruby warned them as they made their way toward the field Yang had so often used for target practice and demonstrations. 

In the days since the discovery on their doorstep, Blake had insisted Yang come with her to that field before her shifts, to practice shooting. She was getting good, something Yang couldn’t just attribute to her own instruction. Blake had a natural talent for the guns. Maybe someday, Yang had teased her the day before, she would be a gunslinger in her own right.

“I know,” Yang sighed. “This is only the first try.”

It was surprising, how Ruby was able to amble along so easily with a sword slung over her shoulder. The long blade glinted a dark violet in the sunlight, presumably a side effect of the Gravity Dust that had been forged into it. This wasn’t a sword that was made to look pretty, or even to necessarily be used in combat: it was made to be a key, to teach them the secrets of Adam’s own sword.

It wasn’t the same size or shape as his, and there was no way to know the concentration of Dust he’d used in the sword. There was no guarantee that this troubling, purple blade would be useful at all. But it was a start, and Ruby was prepared to try again. She hummed to herself, bouncing along the street.

Ruby, at least, could afford to be cheerful, and Yang found herself envious of that fact. She’d decided not to tell Ruby, or Weiss, or anyone else, about what was in that box on the doorstep. No one could know, she’d told Blake. There was no sense in causing a panic. It was a sentiment that Blake disagreed with, and each night, they revisited the issue.

_You need to evacuate the town_, Blake continued to urge. _There’s nothing to stop Adam from attacking Mantle now._

_Except me,_ had been Yang’s constant reply.

She could kill him. She _would _kill him.

“Penny!” Ruby called out to the field. She broke away from Yang and Blake, running toward the field, and Yang’s stomach lurched in discomfort. It wasn't that she was _afraid_ Ruby would impale herself on the sword. Ruby had always been a little too comfortable around swords, staves, and scythes. She trusted her sister, but it didn't mean she liked the careless ease with which Ruby treated her weapons. “All set up?”

“Just about!” Penny called, looking up and giving them a happy wave. “It’s good to see you all again!”

Yang and Blake exchanged a guilty look. They hadn’t seen Penny since the night of the ball, after which Ruby had sworn that both she and Penny had been traumatized by overhearing certain _activities_. Fortunately, Penny made no mention of it as she waved them over. She didn’t even blush.

She was putting the finishing touches on an extremely makeshift scarecrow, though she’d taken the time to draw a smiley face (freckles included) on the sack-cloth of its head. One straw-filled arm was extended in front of it in an uncomfortable right-angle.

“Meet my Scare-Penny!” she announced with a giggle.

Yang raised an eyebrow. While the scarecrow had no hair, Penny had tied a pink ribbon around its neck, fixing it into a large bow that matched the one on her own head.

“It’s… not very intimidating,” she remarked, and Blake elbowed her in the side. “Ow!”

“It’s not supposed to be! It’s me!” Penny said, laughing again. “Don’t you see the freckles?”

“A balder version of you!” Ruby added fondly. “It’s cute.”

“And I’m gonna feel bad when I shoot it,” Yang sighed. Ruby looked aghast.

“You ain’t _actually _gonna shoot it!”

“If the sword works, I won’t. But if the sword’s wrong, then Scare-Penny here gets it!” Yang pointed a finger gun at the scarecrow’s head with a soft “_Pew_!”

Blake rolled her eyes. “As cute as she is… is there a point to her?”

“Well, yeah!” Ruby replied with a grin. “We’re gonna tie the hilt to its arm--”

“_How_?” Yang asked in disbelief.

“Wire!” Penny provided helpfully, holding up a roll of it. “Though we _may _need to tie it on the blade, instead of the hilt. That sword is so much bigger than I realized!”

“As long as it works, I don’t care.” Yang shrugged.

She and Blake watched, somewhat dubious, as Penny and Ruby worked together to strap the sword to the scarecrow’s arm. At first, Yang was concerned that the scarecrow’s arm wouldn’t be sturdy enough to hold the weight of the sword, but Penny and Ruby had apparently thought through that problem. Beneath the straw, they’d used thick slats of wood and the sword held firm.

“Just what is _that_?”

Ruby and Penny paused in their work, and all four of them looked up to see Weiss and Pyrrha approach. Weiss, neat in her monocle and holding her lacy parasol, looked out of place among them. Even Pyrrha seemed somewhat separate from her, standing a couple feet away with her arms behind her back. Yang frowned, looking from one to the other.

“It’s a Scare-Penny!” Ruby explained with a dismissive wave of her hand. Then she paused, and grinning. “Y’know, maybe we should make one of Weiss next!”

“You most certainly will _not_,” Weiss snapped, and Ruby snickered.

“We could even give it a little monocle…” Penny added thoughtfully. Weiss sighed, strolling closer. Pyrrha was careful to keep a little distance between them, watching Weiss with a sad wistfulness that Yang almost missed.

“We could totally give it a monocle!” Ruby agreed, beaming at Weiss. “How’s it workin’ out, by the way? How’ve the headaches been?”

“Definitely not as severe,” Weiss replied, still eyeing the scarecrow with distaste. “They’re not gone completely, but they’re more manageable.”

“See? I knew it would help!” Ruby punched a triumphant fist into the air, making Yang snort and Weiss roll her eyes.

“Moving on,” Weiss continued, stepping closer to the scarecrow. “That’s the Dust sword?” She frowned at it. “It’s… purple.”

“That’s the color of the Dust,” Ruby said, nodding.

Yang remembered Adam’s blade, a flash of red amidst the smoke. “But Adam’s… wasn’t purple. It was red.”

“Hmm.” At this, Ruby frowned, squinting as she twiddled with the fringe of her poncho. “It _is _pretty remarkable. I only used one bullet’s worth of Dust in this blade, so maybe usin’ more Dust would change the color more. Or, it could have somethin’ to do with whatever metal he was usin’. Maybe Dust reacts differently with different metals?”

“Which is a question for another time,” Blake said firmly. She’d come to recognize the eager, curious glimmer behind Ruby’s silver eyes, that hunger for experimentation. “Let’s focus on this one for now.”

“Oh! Right!” Ruby beamed, then took a step back. “You’re up, Yang!”

Since there was a chance the Gravity Dust would make something ricochet, Yang waited until the five of them were behind the fence before drawing her guns. Ruby pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil, ready to take notes.

Yang sized up the sword, narrowing her eyes at the scarecrow. She felt more trepidation, looking into the goofy drawn-on smile, than she’d ever felt with a living target. This was the first step in learning how to kill Adam. She took a hold of that hatred for him, where she’d been carefully stoking it in her heart, and remembered that day weeks ago when they’d stared each other down. His smirk, his pride. Next time, she _would _kill him.

She raised a gun and fired once, aiming for the scarecrow’s head. 

Everyone on the fenceline leaned in as Yang slid her gun back into its holster. She took a few steps toward the scarecrow, looking it over. Its head was intact, though a hole had been blown through its chest. She cocked her head, considering.

“I was aimin’ for the head,” she called to Ruby. “But it hit the chest.”

“Interesting…” When Yang glanced up, Ruby was scribbling something onto her paper. Her head bobbed as she wrote, making her hat bounce. “Try it again, and see if it does the same thing.”

She did, several times, taking her time between shots. During those pauses, Yang looked over to Blake, who watched the shooting with hard, determined eyes. Ruby, on the other hand, looked downright excited, a thoughtful smile playing on her lips as she jotted down notes.

“I may try usin’ different metals next time,” she remarked when Yang had holstered her guns. They circled around the scarecrow, trying to make sense of the Dust’s effect. “And I’ll definitely up the concentration of Dust. Two bullets’ worth might just be enough for next time. Y’all said that Yang’s bullets went straight for his sword, yeah?”

Yang nodded. Ruby hummed, thinking.

“Definitely needs more Dust then… D’you mind if I use more of your bullets, Yang?”

“Help yourself,” Yang said with a shrug. “They’re not as useful for anything other than demonstrations.”

“Excellent…” Ruby rubbed her hands together, almost maniacally. “Then let’s get back to the forge! You comin’, Penny?”

“Should we say a few words for the Scare-Penny?” Penny asked serenely. The fabric of the scarecrow’s thin shirt was riddled with bullet holes. If the Scare-Penny had been a real girl, she’d be quite dead.

“See you next time, babe,” Yang said, giving the the scarecrow a pat on its outstretched arm. This made most of them laugh, Weiss being the exception. She only stared coldly at the scarecrow.

“You should be taking this a little more seriously,” she muttered.

“Weiss,” Ruby said gently. “We’ve gotta make it fun where we can.”

“What’s the point?” Weiss asked, scowling over her monocle.

“If we don’t make things a _little _light,” Blake explained, “the… _bleakness _of all of this might be too much.”

Her ears drooped slightly as she said this, and Yang nodded in agreement. She was sure Blake was thinking of Sienna, making her words all the more somber. Not that anyone else knew the extent of her words, but it was enough for Weiss. Her expression softened.

“That’s… probably true,” she admitted, taking an unconscious sidestep towards Pyrrha. She sighed. “All of this _is_ rather bleak. Do you… really think he’ll come back? Adam?”

Yang caught the way Blake clenched her jaw, though she said nothing. Yang looked up at the scarecrow drearily, its smile now seeming like a mockery.

“Yeah,” Yang mumbled. “I have a feelin’ he will.”

_Adam_. He haunted their days and their nights. Yang stayed up late each night in order to walk Blake home from her shifts at the saloon. Yang felt sickened by the idea that he might try to ambush Blake on her walk home, and she wouldn’t have put it past him to try. So each night, she made sure her revolvers were loaded as she left the house to meet Blake, and the gratefulness in her eyes meant Yang wasn’t alone in her unease.

It was easier, during the day, to put Adam in the back of her mind. There were so many facets to running a town that it was a wonder Yang was able to keep track of everything. She didn’t miss the smirks that Schnee sent her way whenever she saw him about town, additional stress she didn’t want or need. She still hadn’t figured out what he’d meant by paying for the schoolhouse repairs. She also heard from Weiss that he’d hosted several council members for tea, and she could only imagine what they discussed. It left her with a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach.

And then there was Blake, who was constantly looking over her shoulder for phantoms. Even by day, she was jumpy at sudden noises. At night, she twisted and turned in her sleep, sweating profusely despite the air-cooling unit that whirred outside their house. She often awoke gasping and shaking, and all Yang could do was hold her, kiss her, and murmur reassurances as she tried to soothe Blake back to sleep.

Adam was as present in their lives as if he had been there physically.

Yang managed a jovial wave to Ruby and Penny as they departed, taking the purple sword with them. Already, Ruby was coming up with modifications for the next try. More Dust next time, and then they’d experiment with different metals. Yang had a sneaking suspicion that she’d run out of bullets before Ruby ran out of ideas.

“They seem excited,” Pyrrha remarked mildly as they arrived outside Crocea Mors. Yang snorted.

“Weapons are Ruby’s _thing_,” she explained. “Y’know her scythe? She built that herself! All collapsible and everything!”

“As she’s mentioned a time or two…” Pyrrha chuckled. “She talks about Crescent Rose so much, you’d think it was a person.”

“She pretty much is!”

“_She_,” Weiss muttered, though the corner of her lips twitched.

“Ruby’s true love,” Yang added with a chuckle.

“Babe, I’ve gotta get going to work,” Blake said, peeking over the top of the swinging doors. “Will you pick me up later?”

“You got it.” Yang gave her a quick peck on the lips. It was for both of their peace of minds, for Yang to pick Blake up at the end of her shifts now. Too much could happen on the walk home from the saloon. People could be killed, heads could be left on doorsteps, and neither of them wanted to tempt fate. “Love you.”

“Love you.” Blake smiled at her. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you tomorrow?” Pyrrha asked Weiss. Yang looked over as Weiss nodded.

“Of course,” she said distantly. She didn’t move to kiss Pyrrha, even though Pyrrha bobbed her head towards her. But she thought better of it, instead reaching a hand out to lightly squeeze Weiss’s arm. There was an odd flavor of sadness to her green eyes.

“Then I’ll see you then.” Reluctantly, Pyrrha released her, then turned to follow Blake through the swinging doors.

Yang frowned as she watched the doors slow in their swinging, then come to a halt. She turned slowly to Weiss, whose cold eyes never left the doors.

“Did you… wanna get a drink?” Yang asked awkwardly. That jolted Weiss to attention. She looked up at Yang, startled.

“Oh… no. But thank you.” She paused, filling the silence by fidgeting with the handle of her parasol. “Could I… talk to you for moment?”

“Shoot,” Yang said, folding her arms and leaning back against the rail. She paused, then winked, hoping to lighten the strange, dampened mood. “Get it? ‘Cause I shoot.”

Instead of the eyeroll she expected, Weiss looked nervously back over at the saloon doors, then shook her head. “Not here.”

Yang allowed Weiss to take her by the arm, leading her away with the ladylike gentleness that Weiss was so good at. It felt like she was escorting the Schnee heiress down the street, instead of being ushered away for a personal talk. In her other hand, Weiss kept the parasol held up, though it did little to shade them from the desert sun.

“It’s about Pyrrha,” Weiss said quietly when they were a couple buildings down from the saloon.

“Is everything all right with y’all?” Yang asked with furrowed brows. Weiss sighed.

“Between us? Yes. But Whitley…” Her voice trailed off.

“Did he tell your dad about y’all?”

“Yes.”

“And he ain’t happy about it?”

“He probably wouldn’t have minded so much,” Weiss said, her scowl almost upsetting her monocle, “if Whitley hadn’t said it in a way that made him feel foolish, and if he hadn’t reminded Father of our class differences.”

“Huh?”

“Whitley made Father feel stupid for not noticing it sooner,” she replied in a clipped tone. They came to a halt in front of a bakery, and the yeasty smells of baking bread drifted out the open windows. It probably would have been distracting had Weiss not looked so distressed. She’d never seen her with such an obvious expression of anxiety. She was usually so stony, so detached… but now, she was biting her lip and shifting awkwardly on her feet.

“Did he hurt you?” Yang asked sharply, but Weiss shook her head. 

“No. But… it’s made him start talking. About… possibilities for my future.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It _means_,” Weiss went on, letting go of Yang’s arm. She tightened her arms against her body, like she was holding herself. “It means that he’s seeing me as someone who could be a… partner for someone. For marriage. For business purposes.”

“He can’t marry you off against your will,” Yang told her firmly. “That’s illegal.”

“The heir for the Caspian Brothers is only a few years older than us,” Weiss explained, tone deadening. “If our companies merge, I’d be one of the most influential voices in the Dust industry.”

“That’s _if _he doesn’t disinherit you,” Yang said with growing alarm. “And you can’t do that to Pyrrha.”

Weiss flinched at the mention of Pyrrha’s name. There was more than just anxiety and distress in those blue eyes. Even the monocle couldn’t hide the growing fear there. But Weiss pushed ahead anyway.

“But what if this is the difference I could make in the world?” she asked, her voice soft. “I could change the way the entire Dust industry is run! We could end the indentures for good, support small businesses, use our wealth to _better_ the world--”

“And you know _damn _well that your dad could still turn the company over to Whitley,” Yang snapped. “It would be an alliance just as much for him as it would be for you.”

“Which is a risk I’ll have to take!”

Yang’s eyes widened. _If one person has to make a sacrifice to make things better for everyone else, I’ll do it in a heartbeat_. That was what Weiss had told her weeks ago, after being forced to hold a crystal of raw Dust in her hands. This was just another sacrifice. 

“What about Pyrrha?” Yang asked, trying to infuse her words with gentleness. “Does she know?”

“She… does. And she accepts whatever choice I make.”

“Do you love her?”

Weiss hesitated, the anxiety coloring her features, making her look… _older_. More tired. “I… don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know!” Weiss looked close to tears, tugging at the end of her braid in either frustration or desperation. “I just… I can’t think about that, Yang. I don’t have the luxury of being able to _consider_ things like love, or… or…”

It sounded too much like she was trying to convince herself instead of Yang. Maybe that was the whole reason she had wanted to talk to her about this in the first place: to seek validation, that she was making the right decision. Yang would refuse to give her that.

“You deserve to be happy,” Yang urged. She gestured a hand widely in the direction of the saloon. “Let yourself have this!”

“I _can’t_!” Weiss insisted. Her voice cracked. “This sort of thing… love… it isn’t even a guarantee. Pyrrha and I might not even… we might not… And if we don’t, I can’t...”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. The monocle dropped out of Weiss’s eye, dangling from its chain, as Weiss covered her eyes with one hand.

Yang didn’t wait, immediately wrapping Weiss in an embrace. Even amidst her weeping, Weiss still clung to her restraint. There were no loud wails, no dramatics. All she did was shiver, her face buried into Yang’s shoulder.

“And I’m… worried I do,” Weiss told her after a minute or so of this, voice choked. “Love her. And I _can’t_. Not now.”

“You can,” Yang replied softly. “You can leave. You can have this.”

“I have a chance to _do _something, Yang. I can make a difference.”

“You can still make a difference.” She gave Weiss a small squeeze. “With Blake, and me, and Ruby…”

“I’ll do more good by fixing it at its source,” Weiss said with an air of finality. She took a step back. She didn’t meet Yang’s eyes as she dabbed at her eyes on the back of her sleeve. Surprised by her lack of handkerchief, Yang untied the purple bandana from around her neck, offering it to her. Weiss didn’t smile as she took it, though she gave Yang a small mumble of thanks.

“You can be happy, Weiss,” Yang said quietly. Weiss shook her head.

“This isn’t about happiness, Yang. It’s about doing the right thing. _Someone _needs to atone for the things Father has done.”

“It doesn’t have to be you.”

Slowly, Weiss fixed the monocle back into her eye and at last looked back up. Her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks blotchy, and Yang could still feel the dampness of Weiss’s tears against her shirt. 

“Yes,” Weiss replied, resigned. The anxiety was gone, the pain. Her shield and her walls were back, higher than ever as she said, “It does.”

\--

“Are you _serious_?” Yang exclaimed, staring down her council. Goodwitch had the decency to look properly ashamed. Port, Roe, and Goldman couldn’t even meet her eyes. “But we were all in agreement that--”

“Majority rules, Mayor Xiao Long,” Schnee said with a lazy smirk. “The law is the law.”

She stared, still unable to make sense of it. The week before, Yang had thought their discussion about voting rights for Faunus had been productive and progressive. All four of them had been on her side. How, over the course of one week, had they all changed their minds?

Yang’s stare came back to focus on Schnee. His smirk widened.

“You bribed them.”

“A disgusting accusation,” he said, somehow looking offended. “I am _shocked_. You all know _very _well that I am the last person who would--”

“Is that why you paid to replace the windows in the schoolhouse?” Yang demanded, narrowing her eyes. It made frightening sense. What if, she wondered, _he _had been behind the vandalism in the first place? What if he had done this to sway Goodwitch to his side?

“Of course not!” he replied haughtily. To his right, Corona smiled, almost angelically. “That would be a serious offense, Mayor Xiao Long.”

It _grated_ on her, the slight drawl on her title and name. It was a mockery-- every word he said to her was _mockery_. She clenched her fists beneath the table.

“I merely presented them with my points, and they happened to see the logic.”

“The _logic_, of taking away something we _promised_ them?”

“We promised them nothing!”

“But I--”

“We can revisit the issue in a year or so,” Goodwitch put in quietly. Beside her, Lionheart sat in his customary silence, his head bowed and tail curled around his front. If there was anything he was feeling-- anger, betrayal, sadness-- none of it showed. “But for now, it’s best to maintain the status quo. There have been concerns raised--”

“Who raised the concerns?” Yang asked, scowling. “I’ve heard nothin’ of this.”

“Which is because you’ve been… less than discreet about where your loyalties lie,” Schnee replied, tutting. “People are hesitant to approach you for exactly that reason.”

“People know I’m open to discussion.”

“But you’re biased,” Jericho said with a bored sigh. “People would rather bring their concerns up to someone they know is impartial.”

“Impartial,” Robyn Hill muttered beside Jaune. “And just _who _has brought up these concerns? Your drinkin’ buddies?”

“Certain individuals who have particular financial interests in the town.”

“That’s the whole point of this council,” Yang reminded him, trying to fight back her fury. “We ain’t _owned_ by _certain individuals_.”

“They’ve threatened to leave town should your ordinance pass,” he told her mildly. “This town _needs_ the money from their taxes if you wish for Mantle to thrive.”

“And we can work on convincing them,” Goodwitch said, attempting reassurance. “It’s the best we can do, Yang. We can’t afford to lose that income, not right now.”

“We were in agreement last week,” Yang replied, her voice dry. “And now _four _of y’all…”

Under the table, Weiss rested a hand on Yang’s knee, sensing her rising temper.

“I just don’t understand,” Yang said coldly, “how y’all can _conspire _outside of council meetings and then waltz in here and point fingers at _me_.”

“_Conspire_,” Schnee remarked, swirling his drink. “That sounds rather paranoid, I’d say.”

“Delusional, even,” Corona purred.

Yang flushed. She gripped the table, to push herself back to leap out of her chair, but Weiss pushed against her knee, throwing all of her weight into it.

“Yang,” she warned.

“It wasn’t a _conspiracy_,” Jericho scoffed. “There is no conspiracy in talking to other members of a council about concerns. Do you not do the same thing?”

Yang opened her mouth to deny, but Weiss squeezed her leg. Logically, Yang knew that they were _trying _to rile her up and prove their point about her paranoia. It was a trick that Schnee’s crowd had used before; they were experts at manipulation. Yang gritted her teeth.

“It’s _different_,” she spat. She saw Jaune flinch, and heard Hill sigh. Schnee leaned back, smugness seeming to seep from his pores. “_I _don’t arrange secret meetings with council members, treatin’ ‘em to dinners, buyin’ ‘em shit--”

“Such crass language,” Corona complained, screwing her face up in disgust. “It’s terribly unbecoming for a _mayor_ to speak like that.”

Yang’s cheeks darkened as she glared at the councilwoman. “At least I’m honest,” she muttered. “Y’know this is gonna turn the Faunus against us, right?”

“That’s never been a problem before,” Schnee countered.

_You weren’t the one who found a head on your doorstep_, Yang thought. “The White Fang is gonna hear about this,” she warned. “And when they strike--”

She cut off. She was going to finish by saying, _it’ll be on your own head_, but that would’ve been a lie. No, if the White Fang attacked, it would be just as much on Yang as it was on Schnee. So she bit her tongue, fixing Schnee with a glower.

“Which is why Yang’s idea of a militia is an excellent idea,” Jaune told them eagerly. “We need to rally the townsfolk to prepare for any sort of attack, as well as for any Grimm attacks.”

“In the unlikely event that they _do_ occur,” Schnee allowed, “it may be the wise thing to do.”

“And if we incorporate the Faunus--” Yang began, but Schnee cut her off.

“I’m afraid that won’t do. You know the law as well as I do, _Mayor_. Faunus are not permitted to carry weapons.”

“This ain’t your town anymore, Jacques,” Yang replied evenly. “We can pass a resolution right here, right now, to allow them to train for the militia.”

“More bodies that know how to fight, the better,” Hill agreed.

“It isn’t just your _law_,” Schnee said firmly. “They’re my property, and while they’re my property, they abide by _my _rules.”

“You can’t just--”

“You can’t presume to tell someone what to do with their own property,” Jericho said with a sneer. “I thought the whole point of your little election was to _separate_ business from city affairs.”

As his words sank in, the truth settled around her with its cold and dread. This much was true, her own laws coming back to bite her in the ass. Still, she tried to claw at any scraps of hope she could hold onto. “We stopped y’alls beatings and brandings,” Yang told them. “We intervene when it’s necessary. This is no different.”

“And I can deport any of my own workers if they’re caught with a weapon in their hands,” Schnee replied breezily.

“While I agree with Mayor Xiao Long that armin’ the Faunus would help us,” Goldman said slowly, scratching at his stubble, “this ain’t about preventin’ pain and sufferin’. This is just… tryin’ to control the particulars of someone’s business, and that sets a dangerous precedent.”

“Bullshit,” Yang said, and Weiss squeezed her knee harder to try to rein her in. “This could be a matter of life or death for us.”

“And I disagree,” Schnee replied.

“As do I,” Jericho added, nodding.

Yang shot Weiss a desperate look, but Weiss only stared down at her agenda and said nothing. She released her hold on Yang’s leg, giving up. So Yang looked toward Lionheart, who remained silent. He never even met her eyes.

“All in favor of _taking away _the right to vote from the Faunus?” Yang asked through gritted teeth. Schnee sighed, sounding almost disappointed.

“It’s this bias exactly that a mayor should not possess,” he remarked. “A mayor should be _impartial_, Mayor Xiao Long.”

Yang leapt up, eyes flickering red. Weiss seized her vest, yanking hard to urge Yang back into her seat, but Yang didn’t budge.

“And what would _you _know about impartiality, Jacques?” she demanded.

“The vote?” Weiss asked quickly, tugging at Yang again. This time, she allowed Weiss to pull her back into her seat, though her eyes didn’t lose their fire, nor did they stop staring at Schnee.

“All in favor?” she repeated.

Seven-to-five. The bottom fell out of Yang’s stomach, leaving her hollow as she processed the count. _Seven-to-five_.

And just like that, the Faunus’ right to vote was gone.

\--

At least she wasn’t wrong about the bribery, Yang thought sullenly. She’d stopped in her tracks as she passed Roe’s general store, where a cooling unit was currently being installed. Weiss had learned that Schnee had taken on the store as a personal investment, something Yang knew to be more than a coincidence. Yet Schnee had invested in so many properties around Mantle that there would be no way to single out Roe’s store as bribery.

All she could do was watch and grind her teeth.

She couldn’t linger long, to spy on the goings-on of her fellow members of the council. There was too much other work to be done. She shook her head, freeing some of the blonde hair that had stuck to her sweaty neck, then hurried on.

Now that a true militia had been approved by the council, Yang had wasted no time in setting up classes. Ruby would teach the basics of swords and staves, aided by Nora, Ren, and Pyrrha. Yang tried to not get her hopes up; there was no way this gaggle of would-be fighters could be ready for a White Fang attack. 

A small group of townsfolk had gathered in her shooting field, watching as Ruby demonstrated sword stances. As she evaluated them, Yang’s heart dropped even more. A group this size would barely be enough to defend against a swarm of Grimm, let alone the White Fang. Disheartened, Yang watched as recruits clumsily mimicked Ruby’s stances. This plan was futile.

She forced herself to smile as she joined them, somehow managing encouraging words and cheerful laughter as she made her way down the ranks. It sounded fake, even to her own ears, but she had to show their students strength. She had to exude the confidence that they all expected from her.

At least the students were enthusiastic. Penny was throwing her all into the motions, being careful in the way she swung her sword so as not to hit anyone around her. Not all students were as conscientious. Yang winced as one young man switched positions abruptly, his wooden practice sword striking his neighbor. There was a yelp and a curse, and Yang rolled her eyes.

Off to the side, Pyrrha pressed a hand to Weiss’s back, her hand lingering longer than was probably necessary. She murmured something, to which Weiss nodded before widening her stance. In both hands, she clenched Pyrrha’s spear with white knuckles. It was odd, seeing Weiss in pants. They had to have belonged to Pyrrha; they were much too long, rolled up around her ankles, but she seemed comfortable in them. Weiss bounced slightly on the balls of her feet, loosening herself up, and Yang cracked the smallest smile. She considered joining them, to offer advice, but decided against it. She couldn’t bring herself to disturb the little bubble they’d made for themselves. Not now.

“Y’all’re lookin’ good,” she said instead, walking along the rows of Ruby’s pupils. The ones nearest her straightened up. A compliment from the famous gunslinger went a long way for morale. “Now how many of y’all own a gun?”

Hands shot up, though not as many as Yang had hoped for. Most of the people who knew how to shoot were from ranches outside of town, but the ones who lived in the city had little need for guns in their day-to-day lives.

“While it’s good to know the basics of usin’ swords and staves,” she told them, “guns will be more useful against bigger Grimm, or mounted bandits.”

“Are we gonna be shootin’ bandits?” a young woman asked anxiously. Yang hesitated.

“It’s… always a possibility we should be prepared for.” Nobody would need to know how likely the possibility it was. “I don’t want y’all freezin’ up if another swarm of Deathstalkers come through town. I’ll be able to help, but y’all also need to know how to fend for yourselves. If there’s ever a day that I can’t make it to a fight, y’all need to be prepared. Just knowin’ the basics of how to defend yourself could be enough to save your life.”

She surveyed the group, watching some eyes widen in fear of a day that Yang wouldn’t be there to defend them. She softened the statement with a grin.

“I don’t ever intend to skip out on a fight, of course,” she added, pushing past her own doubts. “But trainin’ y’all is something I shoulda been doin’ a long time ago.”

Some people relaxed at the explanation, which made Yang feel worse. She felt like she was lying to them. She felt like she was… _betraying _them, by omitting the truth about the fight to come.

“Once Ruby’s done with y’all, anyone with guns can see me, and we can talk about times to practice,” she said, careful to keep her unease hidden away. She even managed a smirk. “And who better to lead shootin’ practice than the Solitas Dragon herself?!”

“_Solitas Dragon_,” Ruby repeated with a snort. Yang stuck her tongue out, and some of the recruits laughed. With this sort of playfulness, Yang thought as Ruby commanded everyone to re-focus, things could almost be normal.

_Normal_. What Yang wouldn’t give for normalcy once more.

\--

A week after they’d found Sienna’s head, Yang’s high-strung anxiety began to ebb into a dull throb. This was what Adam wanted, Blake had warned her. He would wait until they let their guard down, and then he’d strike. Waiting would lull them into a false sense of security, and he would exploit it with bloody precision.

Yang just hadn’t considered how much _work _it was, to keep a secret. To keep smiling at her sister and friends, knowing that at any moment, hell could break loose. To laugh at Jaune’s dumb jokes, to tease Ruby, to act like everything was fine.

Once in a while, she could almost forget about the head she’d buried in the desert. There would be a moment that someone made her laugh, or she got caught up in a bit of gossip, or had just enough to drink to be carefree. For those few seconds, or minutes, she could breathe again. Her shoulders could relax, and her smiles felt real.

And then there would be a sudden sound: a door slamming, a voice yelling, the backfire from an autocar. Yang would jump and her breath would catch, remembering Sienna all too quickly. There was always that slow second of disorienting fear as she looked around, hoping that _this _wasn’t the moment Adam would crash through the door with his sword raised. 

It never was, but it always took a long time before her heart managed to stop racing.

“When’s the next sword going to be ready?” Yang asked Ruby one morning, trying not to sound as anxious as she felt. Her sister raised one dark eyebrow.

“These things take time, Yang,” she chided as she pulled her poncho on. “Prob’ly we’ll be done by next week.”

Yang groaned, trying to cover up her exasperation with a dramatic whine. “That’s basically forever.”

“Well, I wanna get it done right!” Ruby shrugged. “That first one came out super rough and shitty, but maybe this next one can actually be used as a _real _sword. Just imagine, if we had our own arsenal of Dust-swords! This could really change the game.”

“I don’t care about an arsenal,” Yang snapped. “I just wanna make sure that next time Adam shows his face, I’ll blow it off him.”

Ruby made a face. “Gross.”

“Well, it’s what he deserves.”

Yang wrenched the door open, eyes drawn down to the faded brown splotch on the doorstep. Its existence was a constant warning, a reminder of the storm to come.

“Until we have a better idea…” Ruby said slowly, thoughtfully. “You can always shoot him point-blank.”

“What?” Yang turned back to face Ruby, whose brow was furrowed in deep thought.

“If you can get close enough to him… it wouldn’t matter if he has his sword or not. That should be able to do the trick, because if you’re super close, then the bullets might...” Ruby’s words trailed off, and then she shrugged again. “But I dunno. It’s just a theory.”

Yang considered. It would be difficult, to shoot someone like Adam at point-blank range, to have her gun so close to his head that his sword wouldn’t even have the chance to pull the bullet. Difficult, but not impossible. 

“That might work,” she agreed, frowning slightly. “But I still don’t like it.”

“Neither do I.” Ruby plopped her hat on her head. “So I’ll try to finish that sword as fast as I can.”

For much of that day, Yang played scenarios in her head, over and over again. She needed to be prepared for any eventuality. If she could sneak up on him, it would be ideal, though she doubted she’d ever be in a position to do so. If he was on his horse again, it would be next to impossible.

But she had to try.

“No,” Blake said flatly. As Yang walked her home from work that night, she had explained Ruby’s theory. Blake, predictably, had hated it. “He won’t let you get that close, Yang.”

“If I’m fast enough--”

“_No_.”

Yang fell silent, and Blake gave her arm a small squeeze.

“You’re fast, Yang,” she said, her tone softer. “But so is he. He’s not some half-trained bandit. He _knows_ how to fight. How to kill. I want to make sure that when we _do _fight him, we’ll stand a chance.”

“And what if he attacks tomorrow?” Yang asked, impatient. “Ruby doesn’t think the next sword will be finished till next week. I can’t just waltz into battle, knowing I’m helpless.”

“Which is why we _really _need to tell people! We need to get this town evacuated, and--”

“I can _kill _him, Blake!” Yang threw up her arms, frustrated. “He ain’t _invincible_. Sure, he’s good, but he’s still only a man. He ain’t a god.”

“But if we evacuate the town, it’ll mean less people get caught in the crossfire.”

“And evacuating the town will cause a panic and attract a shitload of Grimm,” Yang reminded her. “And do you really think Schnee’s gonna let the Faunus leave? They’ll be _slaughtered _by the Grimm.”

“Faunus aren’t completely helpless, Yang. We know how to fight.”

“With what weapons?” Yang gestured in the direction of the Faunus quarter. “Y’all aren’t allowed to even _hold _a weapon. How’re they gonna protect themselves from a Grimm invasion?”

“We’d manage,” Blake replied firmly. “We always have. At least the White Fang will leave the Faunus alone. But do you remember the autotrain, Yang? They killed _children_. And you know they would again, especially if Adam’s leading them.”

A pained look crossed Yang’s face as they reached their house. Slowly, she shook her head.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” she said at last. “It just…”

No. Yang’s resolve hardened. She’d seen what Blake’s fear had looked like. She couldn’t feed into it. She couldn’t allow room for doubt, not when someone depended on her. For Blake’s sake-- and for Weiss’s, and for Ruby’s-- Yang needed to be confident. She needed to be strong.

She needed to make a decision.

“We’ll be fine,” Yang said firmly. “Our defense force is gettin’ better every day. We have an idea about how we can deal with Adam. And I’m the best shooter in Remnant.”

“Yang…”

“We can do it, baby,” she added. She faced Blake, reaching up to thread some of Blake’s hair through her fingers. Yang found it within herself to smile. “You and me. We can take out the White Fang. We can kill Adam. And we can do all of it without destroyin’ Mantle.”

Blake’s frown meant that she was unconvinced, but Yang cupped one of her cheeks in her hand.

“We _can_,” she repeated. “We’re a whole town, dammit. The White Fang can’t take out a town this size. You’ll see. Everything’s gonna be all right. I promise.”

Blake swallowed, then gave the tiniest nod of her head.

“Okay,” she said. Yang smiled, then kissed her.

“Everything’s gonna be all right,” she murmured again. “You and me. We got this. I promise.”

It was such a simple thing, a promise.

It was one that would come to haunt her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO YES I'M ALIVE
> 
> I have a backlog of comments from the last chapter I need to respond to, but I'm going to respond to all of them!! I'm going through Major Life Upheaval(TM), so just be patient with me.
> 
> This chapter is somewhat short, because it was supposed to be combined with the next chapter... but hopefully, y'all will understand why I didn't. I really waffled back and forth between combining the chapters or not. So consider this a transitional chapter!
> 
> It shouldn't be too long before the next chapter, but keep in mind, after this chapter, I'm going to be very heavy on the trigger warnings. Beware.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Violence (I tried not to be too graphic, but there's only so much I can avoid). Minor character death.
> 
> Sorry, dudes.

Yang broke into a run, kicking up dust as she charged the scarecrow. She’d already drawn her gun, and she pulled her arm back as she took aim. Then, just as she reached the scarecrow, she lunged suddenly to the side, arm swinging at the sack-cloth head. She fired twice, feeling grim satisfaction as the two bullets of Fire Dust tore through the coarse fabric. There was the pungent odor of burning straw as Yang took a step back.

“Yeah, you prob’ly should do that only in a worst case scenario,” Ruby piped up from the fenceline, scrawling something on the notepad. “He ain’t a scarecrow. He might think ahead, plan for what you’re doin’. And, if he used a higher concentration of Dust in his sword, the bullets still might not go the way you want ‘em to.”

“I know,” Yang sighed, blowing smoke from the barrel of her gun. “But it’s nice to actually have the bullets go where I want for once.”

“Yeah.” Ruby wrinkled her nose. “You should prob’ly practice with feinting both sides, too.”

“I was plannin’ on it.”

“Good.” Ruby blew at the hair that had fallen into her face. “And it might be a good idea to experiment with distance, too. See how close you actually need to be for an accurate shot.”

“Will it even matter?” Yang asked. “If Adam used a shitload more Dust in the sword than we used, I won’t have a choice but to get up close.”

She turned back to the scarecrow thoughtfully. The new sword was much more elegant than the first one, gleaming an even brighter shade of violet. The red of Adam’s sword probably had to do with whatever alloy he used for the metal, Ruby had explained. Both of their test-swords had been made with iron, which was cheaper than steel. The amount of Dust had seemed to affect the vibrancy of the purple, but there was no telling if the added carbon in steel would make the color any different. That would be the next test.

“It’ll still give us an idea of what to expect,” Ruby replied, shrugging. “You should focus more on aimin’ at his back, if not the back of his head. If you catch him off-guard like that, you might stand a better chance. We just gotta see how it’ll react to the pull of the sword if his body’s in the way of it.”

Yang nodded, striding around the scarecrow. She moved back a few yards. It was better to start further back, and then move closer as needed. She’d only been practicing aiming head-on at the scarecrow, but hadn’t wanted to waste ammo on its back until they had a sword that pulled the bullets more easily. She took a deep breath, raised a gun, and fired.

The gravitational pull of the sword made it so the shot didn’t aim true, though she expected this. The bullet tore through the scarecrow’s back as it shot towards the sword. It struck the blade, metal ringing against metal. Yang raised an eyebrow, then looked back up at her sister. Ruby nodded.

“Again,” she said.

They repeated the process again, and again, and again, moving closer to the scarecrow each time. It felt good, to be doing _something _to prepare. She felt so useless most of the time. Not even training her small band of shooters could take that feeling away from her.

The militia was improving, that much was true. The people who owned guns already knew how to use them. It was just up to Yang to improve on their techniques, to make them more efficient shooters. Still, they lacked her experience. In the face of a real battle, she knew many of them would panic. Just imagining that scenario was enough to rattle her.

At least practicing on the scarecrow felt like actual progress. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give her an idea of how to handle Adam when the time came.

“Okay!” Ruby announced. Yang had paused to mop her bandana on her sweaty forehead. It was a particularly hot day, and the desert sun was ruthless. “This should be enough for me, I think. Did you wanna keep practicin’?”

“Yeah,” Yang said, nodding. She stretched her arms out, joints cracking. “I’ll bring the sword home when I’m done.”

“Next one’s gonna be steel,” Ruby reiterated, bouncing up. “But we can still use this one. We can give it to one of the better sword fighters and do some experimentin’ on our own. I’m curious to see how it’ll be against other swords.”

“Yeah,” Yang repeated. She joined Ruby on the fenceline, bending over to grab her canteen. She took a long swig of it. “I might want to practice on my own with it a little more till the next one’s made, but I don’t mind sharin’.”

“Good, good.” Ruby beamed. “This has been a lot more fun than I thought. It kinda reminds me of bein’ back on Dad’s ranch, when we were always screwin’ around with weapons…”

“_You _did most of the screwin’ around,” Yang pointed out, smiling despite herself. “I was the responsible one.”

“Usually.”

Yang laughed. “_You _were the one who busted _my _ribs with that giant-ass wooden sword--”

“I thought Dad was gonna murder me!” Ruby snorted. “And _then _I thought he was gonna murder Uncle Qrow for encouragin’ it--”

“The things Qrow let us get away with,” Yang said wistfully. “But we prob’ly wouldn’t be half as good as we are now without him.”

“That’s prob’ly true.” Ruby stepped back, sighing. “Well, I gotta get goin’. I was gonna meet Penny for a late lunch.”

“Don’t stay out too late!”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

Though Yang’s words sounded like a joke, they were more serious than Ruby could know. While Yang still hadn’t told anyone else about her meeting with Sienna Khan and her subsequent death, she had gotten into the habit of reminding people to _not stay out too late_. It was as close as she could get to warning them.

“When’s the next sword gonna be ready?” Yang asked, setting her canteen back down.

“You can’t rush perfection,” Ruby replied, gathering up her notes. “Maybe a couple weeks.”

“I’m not after perfection. I just want _results_.”

“And we’re gettin’ some! But it takes_ time _to make a good sword, Yang. You know that.”

“Yeah.” Yang leaned against the fence, trying to keep her anxiety under the surface. Ruby gave her a playful punch to the arm.

“Two weeks ain’t _that _long,” she said reassuringly. “You can last till then, yeah?

“I s’pose,” Yang replied, returning her sister’s smile.

They would never get a chance to test another sword.

\--

Yang swirled her tankard, the beer inside threatening to slosh over the rim. She would have loved nothing more than to get rip-roaring drunk, but she was uncomfortable with the idea of being anything more than mildly tipsy. The very idea that the White Fang could strike at any moment was enough to slow her down. It terrified her, the notion that she’d have to face Adam while drunk, or even hungover. She needed all of her wits about her at all times.

But oh, she would have loved to drink away her fears for one night.

Even in the warm light of the saloon, she could sense tension in the air. It made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, a sort of electricity that charged the room. Mantle was full of it, even though most of the townsfolk couldn’t name a reason why.

Some of it, Yang supposed, had to do with the formation of the militia. Even though Yang had said it was a precaution, seeing so many armed civilians made the townsfolk nervous. It would ease with time, Yang hoped, but for now, it worried people that they’d need a militia in the first place. Until then, the farms and ranches surrounding Mantle were beginning to complain of more Grimm than usual.

The occasional Grimm was no cause for alarm. However, the rate at which people were fighting them off had to be more than just nervousness over a militia. Something had to be attracting them, and Yang had no idea what it might have been. Unfortunately, the appearance of Grimm tended to have a domino effect: the more Grimm that appeared, the more scared people would become, which would attract even more Grimm.

If only Yang knew how to stop the fear at its root.

Behind the bar, Blake leaned toward Jaune, muttering something Yang couldn’t hear. He looked up at the dance floor, then nodded. With a smile, Blake slipped away from the bar and around to Yang.

“He says we can dance the next one,” she said, leaning to speak into Yang’s ear. The piano was loud, and the chatter around them was louder. “You up for it?”

“Like you even need to ask!” Yang found herself grinning as she set the tankard down and pushed herself off the stool. “I sit by myself all _night_, just waitin’ for a chance to dance with the gorgeous girl behind the counter--”

“Gorgeous girl?” Blake asked, clearly trying to keep her smile from looking too pleased.

“Yeah, Pyrrha.”

Blake gave Yang a quick poke in the side, and her ensuing squeal made them both burst into laughter.

So, maybe things weren’t _quite _normal, but moments like this were close.

Penny’s fingers flew over the keys of the piano, her head lowered and bobbing in time, making her red ponytail bounce. Yang curled one hand around Blake’s back, clasping her free hand in one of Blake’s.

The dancing, whirling bodies around them were _invigorating_. Yang began to lead Blake in the familiar steps, losing herself to the rhythm of the music, to the steps, and the glittering gold of Blake’s eyes. They danced too quickly to speak, though they couldn’t help their occasional giggle. Yang dipped her, watching the muscles of Blake’s neck stretch as she tilted her head back. Her long black hair flowed behind her in a cascade of velvety shadows.

They were both sweating by the time the song ended. Yang could feel it through Blake’s blouse before she pulled her hand away, and saw it sparkle at her temples.

“I should get back to work,” she said regretfully, glancing back over at the bar. “Dance nights are always busy.”

“Yeah,” Yang sighed, though she leaned in to give Blake a soft kiss. “Though, if you can manage to sneak away for another dance--”

“Then I _might_ save it for you,” Blake teased. She kissed Yang again. “I’ve always loved dancing with you,” she added, more softly.

Yang stared dreamily after Blake as she returned to her spot behind the bar. She _knew _she had to look like a lovestruck kid, but she didn’t even care. She didn’t care if anyone saw how deep her love was for Blake Belladonna. This was something she wore proudly, happily. Even in a world filled with doubt, love was something Yang could own, fully and completely.

"This'll make a good headline," Nora said with a laugh. Yang jolted to attention as Nora halted beside her with a tray full of empty mugs.

"Huh?"

"_Famous Gunslinger Yang Xiao Long, Defeated by a Pretty Saloon Girl_," Nora announced loudly, shifting her hold of the tray to hold one arm out to display her imaginary newspaper headline. However, as her hand jerked, a couple mugs fell off the tray and onto the floor.

"Shut up," Yang muttered, bending over to pick up the mugs, using the motion to hide her smile. Nora wasn't fooled.

“You’re even worse than Pyrrha is over _Weiss_,” Nora added with an eyeroll. “I don’t think I was ever this bad over Ren.”

“Well, you practically grew up with him,” Yang said, pretending her face hadn’t gone bright red. “Pyrrha and I don’t have that excuse.”

“Yeah, yeah. Y’all’re still obnoxious, though.” Nora smiled fondly at Yang, then winked. “It’s cute, actually. And here, I never thought you’d ever do _anything _cute.”

“Bite me, Valkyrie.”

“I mean it!” Nora laughed. “Seeing you _now_, compared to before y’all met… It’s nice, y’know? You just seem… happier, with her around.”

“Do I?” Yang could curse herself for blushing, and Nora giggled again.

“It’s the _love_!” she declared in a sing-song voice. “It looks good on you, Yang.”

Yang rolled her eyes, trying to hide her smile. “If you say so.”

If only it looked so good on everyone. She found Weiss at the bar, staring forlornly off at Pyrrha as the taller woman bustled down the bar.

“Y’all right, Weiss?” Yang asked, joining her. She leaned against the countertop.

“Of course,” Weiss said quickly, the chain of her monocle swinging lightly as she spun her head toward Yang. “Why do you ask?”

“You look a little…” She shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Very specific.” Weiss sighed, then lowered her voice. “Father sent a letter to the Caspian brothers about… my marriage prospects.”

“So you’re gonna do it?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

Yang said nothing, not wanting to bring up the argument in such a public space, with Pyrrha so close. But Weiss’s eyes flickered back to Pyrrha, full of a sad sort of longing that made Yang’s heart fall.

“Father is going to start bringing Whitley to council meetings,” Weiss said suddenly.

“He can’t,” Yang replied flatly.

“He’s already asked most of the council. Nobody sees a problem with it, as long as he’s just observing. And since the councils are a matter of public interest anyway… there’s no reason anyone can refuse.”

“But it’s _wrong_.”

“Once again, Father has us in a corner.” Weiss’s lips curled in disgust. “My guess is that he’s going to try to weasel Whitley into a seat on the council, somehow. And then we’ll be doomed.”

She said this so matter-of-factly that it took a moment for Yang to realize the gravity of her words. “You’re not… givin’ up?”

“No,” Weiss sighed. “But he’s going to find every roadblock he can and make things as difficult as possible for us, which means we’ll have to be extra careful around him.”

“What else is new?” Yang muttered. She looked behind the bar, where Blake gave her a wink and pursed her lips in a little kiss. Yang grinned, then mouthed, “_Love you_.” Blake laughed.

“Sickening,” Weiss said, though she wore a sad smile. She looked up at Pyrrha again, almost yearning, though she made no gesture and said no words. She looked back toward the dance floor and took a sip of the beer she had, at last, grown accustomed to. Her expression hardened into resignation, and Yang’s heart ached for her.

\--

Of all times for a Grimm attack, it had to be the night of a council meeting. Yang swore steadily on the long trek towards the Cambric Ranch. King Taijitus had attacked the ranch, Lionheart had told her. Too many for simple farmers to deal with, and the Cambric family had run to the town for refuge. Yang had just been about to leave her house for the council meeting when Lionheart had met her halfway with the message.

“I’ll inform them of the circumstances,” he’d reassured her, his long lion’s tail twitching nervously. She’d smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder, hiding her misgivings. Wouldn’t it be just like Schnee, to calculate a way for Yang to miss the first council meeting with Whitley in attendance?

He was probably bad-mouthing her that very moment, she thought irritably. Never mind that Yang was defending her people. He’d find a way to paint this in a bad light for her.

Something screeched overhead, and Yang looked up, shielding her eyes against the sunset. She frowned and drew her guns.

Ravagers. Three hideous flying Grimm, soaring in the opposite direction.

At least it wasn’t many. Before she’d met Blake, she’d been nearly incapacitated by a flock, but it had taken nearly a dozen Ravagers to accomplish it. She fired at the leading Grimm, knowing one shot at this distance would do little more than aggravate it.

It did, however, draw their attention. They wheeled in the sky, shrieking as they dove toward her. As they closed the distance, Yang fired both guns again and again. The lead Ravager, already wounded from the first gunshot, burst into ash. Satisfied, she took out the second, then the third. Bumblebee, used to gunshots and the smell of Fire Dust, only snorted.

It was typical, during Grimm swarms, for smaller Grimm to accompany the larger ones, attracted to the fear caused by the first larger Grimm. It could be overwhelming for a ranch, but Yang was a pro. She suspected these wouldn’t be the last Ravagers on the outskirts of the Cambric Ranch.

She was right. There were more Ravagers, in miniature flocks, flying away from the direction of the ranch. Each flock, she lured closer to herself in order to get an accurate shot, and then would slay them each in turn. Not too difficult, but then again, Ravagers didn’t have the heavy armor of a Deathstalker or the thick skin of a King Taijitu. Their ability to fly, and often, their number in flocks, were what made them dangerous.

After the fourth flock, Yang began to grow concerned. A few Ravagers could be expected, but this many wasn’t normal, especially considering the ranch was now empty. There should have been no reason for so many Ravagers to linger on a ranch with no people in it. 

Her suspicion grew when she saw the Creeps and Deathstalkers.

Yang’s eyes grew wide as a Creep charged past her, not even seeming to know she was there. She stared after it stupidly, wondering if she should chase it, when another ran past the clumps of mesquite. If a Grimm could ever look excited, these leggy Creeps certainly did.

“What…?” Yang said to herself, incredulous as a swarm of small Deathstalkers, led by a large queen, followed after them. 

This was more of a small army of Grimm rather than a handful of errant Ravagers, and it made no sense. The fact that none of them stopped for her made her nervous, even when she shot at a few passing Creeps. They didn’t even seem to notice that some of their fellows had disintegrated around them. Yang was little more than an obstacle in their path. Bumblebee shifted restlessly. She tolerated Grimm during fights on the range, but they’d never seen so many in one place.

And all running _past_ her, which was the crazy part. Yang frowned as she tried to understand. They weren’t even heading toward the Cambric Ranch. It wasn’t even like they were running _from_ the ranch. It was like they were heading toward--

Yang paled.

Gods, how could she have been so fucking _stupid_?

“Shit, shit, shit!” She kicked Bumblebee’s sides hard, joining the Grimm, determined to outrace them to Mantle. Only now was she able to make out the orange light spreading across Mantle, illuminating the buildings in a fiery silhouette against the darkening sky. 

The smoke. She hadn’t even registered the smoke to be anything other than the typical smoke of cookstoves and fireplaces, but this smoke, she now saw, was much more than that. This was the smoke of burning buildings, of battle.

The moment Yang had waited for-- the moment she’d tried to _prepare _for-- had started without her.

Even though it wasn’t a terribly far, the journey back to town felt like the longest Yang had ever ridden. She could only watch with growing horror as the fires spread, as the smell of smoke began to waft around her. Once in a while, there’d be a shuddering _boom_ as the windows of a building exploded outwards, chased by flame.

Mantle was burning. Her town was _burning_.

The streets crawled with Grimm, with Ravagers screeching overhead. Yang had to slow Bumblebee down to keep from running down panicked townspeople. The horse was panting, and Yang was relieved that she was going to pass her house, where she could at least shove Bumblebee in her stall-- but apparently, she wasn’t allowed even that luxury. The screams of townsfolk and the unholy sounds of Grimm were deafened in a hard, crushing moment of shock.

Her house was gone.

A few smoldering posts still stood, anchored deep in the dirt. But everything else-- the walls, the ceiling, all of their belongings-- were in a mess of still-burning rubble. Adam had known where she lived, she remembered as she slumped off Bumblebee. He’d delivered Sienna’s head to her doorstep, hadn’t he? Of course he would make sure he’d destroy their little sanctuary.

The air reeked of pungent Fire Dust. Yang surveyed the remains of her home, momentarily too horror-struck to think, to breathe, to react. 

(She’d just been in her house that afternoon. She and Blake had eaten lunch together. They’d slept in their bed the night before, not even thinking about the walls that made up their simple home. It was so easy to take it all for granted).

“Yang!”

She felt like a puppet, her head moving of its own accord toward the source of the voice. It was Sun, running up to her with dirt and ash smeared over his tanned face. He panted, leaning over his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“I got the horses out!” he gasped out, jutting a thumb toward the Faunus quarter. “Some Faunus in a mask knew I worked for you, and he told me I could take the horses for myself before they blew the house up. I swear, I tried to find you first, but it all happened so fast--”

Yang held up a hand to silence him. She stared back over ruined home, then asked, hollowly, “Blake? Ruby?”

“Blake was at work,” he supplied, and Yang’s shoulders sank in relief. “I think Ruby was at the forge. Nobody was home, or I would have told you right away, but--”

“Okay.” At least now she could breathe. Having lived on the road for most of her adult life, she wasn’t attached to the belongings. The things she _did _need-- her guns, her sister, and her heart-- were safe. She could grieve this loss later. They could always rebuild. “I’m gonna go find ‘em.”

“I can take Bumblebee,” he offered, and Yang nodded. She wouldn’t be able to sneak around on Bumblebee like she could on her own two feet.

“If you find Blake, get her out of here,” Yang told him, taking as much of her ammo from Bumblebee’s saddlebag as she could carry. She reloaded her guns. “Get her outta here, and keep her safe. I’ll find y’all when this is all done with. Promise me.”

“She could prob’ly keep herself safer than I ever--”

“_Promise _me.”

Sun swallowed, then nodded. “Promise.”

She nodded, and suddenly found that she couldn’t find any more words to say. There was a lump in her throat, keeping her from saying them anyway. Instead, she patted him on the shoulder before sprinting in the direction of Crocea Mors.

She’d walked the span between her house and Crocea Mors so often, especially in the past month. It was a short walk when Blake’s hand was in her own, when they walked together down the quiet, Dust-lit streets.

But now it was anything but quiet. She’d barely started before she shot at a Creep, a blast of Fire Dust ripping through its oily flesh. It let out a monstrous screech, then fell apart into ash.

With a quick glance behind her to make sure nobody was there, Yang aimed her guns backward. She flipped the switch on her guns, shooting herself into the air and forward, faster than even a sprint could manage. She landed ahead of another Creep, and one quick shot disposed of the beast before it could open its wide maw to roar.

She rounded a corner, pushing past a small knot of people running in the opposite direction. One person clutched their bleeding arm, and another man held a wailing toddler in the other.

“_Mama_!” the toddler cried, tears streaking the pudgy cheeks.

Yang couldn’t let herself dwell on those tears. The only help she could give these ragged people was to shoot at the young Deathstalker that tailed them, two shots blasting through the underdeveloped armor.

But she couldn’t linger.

She fired behind her again, and then again. She couldn’t afford to waste any time on the smaller Grimm. There were so many that if she stopped to kill each one, she’d never find Blake, or her sister, and more would always come to replace the ones she killed.

She only stopped to reload, and each time, she scanned the smoky streets. She’d expected to find hordes of townsfolk trying to escape, but she supposed that most of the town had already either taken cover or had gotten out of town. As she got closer to the saloon, the only people she saw were the clumsy members of Mantle’s militia, working together to try to take down Grimm. The White Fang, she guessed, must be focusing their efforts elsewhere.

Her ragtag fighters were doing better than she expected, at least. She suspected that some of them would have lost their courage and run when the fighting began, but there were still plenty of them in the streets, putting their lessons to the test. 

To her left, a trio of fighters was taking on a large Deathstalker, each pincer easily as long as Yang was. Her stomach plummeted as she saw one of her fighters take its stinger in the abdomen. The wounded man gasped, eyes going wide as his whole body froze. Yang took a precious moment to reload, then darted over to them.

“Get under the belly!” she hollered as she ran toward the Deathstalker. It wrenched its stinger out of the poor soldier’s gut, and the man fell limply into the dust. “I’ll distract it!”

As she spoke, Yang fired into each of those glowing red eyes. The Deathstalker screeched, rearing up as it whirled around, still trying to search for its assailant even while blinded. One of the remaining fighters, a woman named Octavia, took advantage of the distraction, dashing under the beast and jabbing her sword upward, jamming it into the monster’s soft belly. 

It was all Yang had time to do. It was a start, but she couldn’t stay to help. Blind and wounded, the Deathstalker would be crippled enough for the others to finish off.

She fired her guns behind her again, the saloon nearly in sight.

When she rounded the next corner, Yang’s knees nearly buckled with relief. Ruby moved through the center of the street, a couple buildings down from the inferno that was Crocea Mors. Her red poncho whirled around her like a blooming rose as she swung her scythe, shredding the white flesh of a King Taijitu as she danced closer to its head. The massive snake recoiled, letting out a spitting hiss, but Ruby was relentless. Her scythe swooped in a wide arc, catching the other side of its body. With a growl of exertion, Ruby heaved and planted a foot on its hide, yanking the scythe back toward herself, cleaving the creature cleanly in half. Both sides crumbled away into ash.

In the firelight, the blade of Crescent Rose glinted as Ruby took a moment to catch her breath, leaning over to pant.

The King Taijitu’s black twin was on the opposite side of the street, circling Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren. Yang could see that Pyrrha was murmuring some sort of instruction, to which both Ren and Nora nodded. They lunged forward, Nora raising her hammer and Ren his dagger. He stabbed first. A dagger was of little use against a King Taijitu, but it must have hurt enough that it coiled its head around, hissing. Its head lowered, Nora swung her hammer at it, smashing it to the ground. She leaped back, giving Pyrrha the space to drive her spear into its skull. When the snake burst into a cloud of ash, the point of Pyrrha’s spear was buried in the ground.

“Y’all right?!” Yang called running toward them.

“Yang!” The relief in Ruby’s voice was nearly painful to hear. She sprang at her sister, holding Crescent Rose at length to wrap Yang in a one-armed hug. “The hell’ve you been?!”

“I got called away for what I _thought _was a Grimm attack outside of town, but…” She shook her head helplessly. “Where’s Blake?”

“She went to Aura with a few of the fighters,” Pyrrha explained hurriedly, looking anxiously in the direction of the fancier establishment. Yang paled. The council meeting had been held there. “She was the only one who had a weapon on hand when the attack started, so the rest of us stayed to get the customers evacuated. But now…”

They all looked up at Crocea Mors, grief writ on every face. Nora looked close to tears as Jaune’s beloved saloon crackled and burned.

“Let’s go,” Yang said suddenly, decisively. She expelled her spent casings, replacing them without thinking. “I wouldn’t put it past the White Fang to murder the whole council.”

Pyrrha gave a sharp nod, and yanked her spear out of the ground. She had her own reason to be worried about the fate of the council, and it was a fear Yang could understand.

The five of them took off at a run, Yang keeping to the side in order to give herself a speed boost with her guns. The wooden grips were hot in her palms, her fingers keeping a tight hold to ensure her sweaty palms wouldn’t slip.

“Blake!” she yelled as soon as she was within sight of the building. Aura had once been a neat saloon, too proud to actually use the word _saloon _to describe itself. The owners had tried to create a little miniature garden at its front, arranged with the prettier desertlife of flowering cacti and carefully-tended grasses.

That delicate desertlife was now trampled, and the building itself was little more than a blackened shell.

“Weiss!” Pyrrha screamed, so loud that Yang was sure it had to have hurt her vocal chords.

It was here that Yang finally saw members of the White Fang, swinging blades, firing arrows, and shooting guns at members of her own militia. She recognized Robyn Hill and the small team of archers she’d put together, spaced along the street with their bows and crossbows. That meant at least some of the council had gotten out safe. Which meant--

“_Pyrrha!_”

Yang had no idea how Weiss had managed to secure a rapier, of all things, but she held it aloft as she raced toward them. Pyrrha let out a low moan of relief, arms widening to catch Weiss, who dropped her rapier to throw her arms around her. Weiss didn’t hesitate, pulling back to take Pyrrha’s cheeks in her hands, standing on tiptoe to kiss her.

“Thank the gods,” Weiss said when they broke apart, her voice barely over a squeak. Her white blouse was streaked with ash, black smeared across even her pale cheeks. Her monocle dangled down her front, a large crack through its middle. “Blake said you were all right, but--”

“Blake?!” Yang snapped to attention.

Dimly, she was aware that Ruby, Ren, and Nora had restarted their fighting, splitting up to aid their desperate soldiers.

“She got us out of there,” Weiss explained, nodding to the saloon. “Found us a spot to lay low. We’re still trying to figure out how to get Father, and the rest of the ones who can’t fight, somewhere safe. That idiot Jericho got himself killed trying to make a run for it, and that scared everyone else into staying put.”

“Even your dad?” Yang asked, eyebrows shooting up. Weiss nodded. 

“He’s not happy that I’m fighting,” she added, eyes flickering toward a sidestreet that Yang suspected hid Jacques Schnee, “but I couldn’t just sit there and worry when everyone else is out there, risking their lives!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Pyrrha said softly, embracing Weiss again.

“Do you know where Blake went?” Yang asked, her anxiety mounting. Seeing their own relief only exacerbated her own worry.

“I think she was trying to draw some of the White Fang away… to get them out of the area,” Weiss explained, turning back to Yang. “But she was fine, Yang. She’s _good_. I’d never seen her actually fight before. I don’t know why you didn’t have _her _teaching combat!”

“The Faunus thing,” Yang said distantly, watching Ruby butt the end of Crescent Rose into an unfortunate Fang soldier. “That law about weapons… shit, we don’t have time for this.”

She aimed both of her guns at two separate members of the Fang who were gaining on Ren and Nora, firing them both at once. The two masked figures fell, dropping their bows, though Nora and Ren didn’t have a chance to thank her; Nora swung her hammer into another one’s stomach, and Ren slashed at yet another.

“We were going to clear out the route to the autotrain,” Weiss went on hurriedly. “It’ll be the fastest way out of town--”

“--if nobody blows the train or the tracks up,” Yang snapped. “Weiss, that’s a _stupid _idea.”

“They’re focusing their destruction in the town itself,” Weiss said firmly. “They’re not going after the people who’ve gotten out of town. I think, if we can get people loaded up on the train, they’ll stand a chance of getting out of town.”

“A train hasn’t stopped the Fang before,” Yang reminded her, but Weiss shook her head.

“They were waiting for that train in an ambush. It’s a lot harder to chase a train from behind.” She paused. “This is our best shot, Yang. We could save lives.”

“Or kill them.”

“Weiss is right,” Pyrrha said, almost regretfully. “There’s a lotta people still stuck in town. _Including _children. If we can get as many as we can onto the train… they’ll have a better chance than stayin’ where they are now.”

“Even so, it ain’t even gonna put a dent in the number of people in town.”

“But it’s better than nothing.” Weiss’s fists clenched as she spoke. “At least we’ll be doing _something_.”

Yang gritted her teeth, then gave a curt nod. She spun back around to the street, guns raised again.

“Yang, wait-- there’s one more thing,” Weiss added. Yang turned back, the firelight making her gold hair crackle.

“Yeah?”

“Lionheart wasn’t at the meeting tonight.” Beyond them, a Fang soldier screamed as Ruby struck him with her scythe. “Do you think he had anything to do with this?”

Yang bit her lip, breaking eye contact with Weiss to survey the street. At least it was easier to kill humans than it was Grimm, and Nora killed the last Fang soldier in the area with a triumphant cry. Yang shrugged one shoulder.

“He was the one who got me out of town to begin with,” she replied, lowering her guns. “But I don’t know what that means.”

The strangeness of Lionheart, and whatever role he may or may not have played that night, would have to be considered later. The more pressing concern was how to keep the path to the autotrain depot clear, and to escort citizens there.

The first ones to be escorted, to Yang’s chagrin, were the remaining members of her council, hidden in someone’s shed. In front of the door stood Jaune, looking thoroughly disheveled and a sword looking uncomfortable in his hand. He would have had no idea how to use it, and he nearly fell to the ground with relief at seeing Yang and the others.

“We’ve been able to stay outta sight,” he babbled, dropping the sword. His hand shook violently. “Are y’all okay? Where’s Blake?”

“I’m gonna go look for her once I get y’all sorted,” Yang said, trying to hold onto her confidence.

“We think we can evacuate some people on the autotrain,” Weiss told him, wrenching the shed door open. “But we need to hurry.”

Huddled in the shed, the remaining members of the council seemed so helpless. Corona had obviously been crying, tears making a mess of her makeup. Whitley had curled his thin, angular body into the tightest ball he could manage, his face whiter than usual. Port, Roe, and Goldman looked shaken. Yang suspected that Goodwitch had joined in the fighting, perhaps leaving to fight alongside Hill. Jericho, she’d already been told, had been killed.

Schnee was nearly unrecognizable. His suitcoat was gone, presumably pulled off when the air around him began to get hot. His white shirt was untucked and sullied with soot, his powder-blue tie loosened. His cane was nowhere in sight. None of this, however, took away from his imperious air as he marched up to Yang.

“Where the _hell _have you been?” he demanded, and that was the moment Yang finally snapped. She shoved a gun into her holster, slapping him across the face as fast as one of her quick-draws.

“I _don’t _answer to you,” she replied coldly. “We’re savin’ your life. You should be _on your knees_ with gratitude.”

He stood dumbly, his blue eyes wide with astonishment. Corona gasped, and Whitley’s jaw dropped. Yang jutted her thumb to the street.

“Let’s move.”

Moving the council through the streets felt eerily similar to herding cattle. They attempted to move a lot stealthier than said cattle, keeping to the sides of buildings and in the shadows, but it amounted to the same thing. She took up the rear guard, letting Pyrrha and Weiss lead. To their sides, members of the militia held off Grimm and Fang alike. A part of her was proud at how well they held their ground in the face of such destruction.

Yang’s quick guns were able to keep most of her fighters alive, though their lack of experience proved fatal for enough of them. Her stomach knotted each time one of her fighters-- her _pupils_\-- fell in the struggle, but she couldn’t stop to tend to them. They only paused long enough for a fighter to run into the few buildings they passed, looking for survivors. Not many joined them; apparently, most people had bailed when the attack started. But these pauses were brief, giving Yang enough time to reload before they continued along. Her charges, even Schnee, followed along without argument, chasing their desperate hope of salvation from the hell that Mantle had become.

It turned out, the autotrain depot was crawling with Grimm.

Weiss, apparently, hadn’t been the first person to come up with the idea to spirit people away on the train. The depot was a mess, people trying to escape the Grimm in order to reach the train, and the result was utter carnage. A King Taijitu swallowed a man whole, before he even had time to scream. A large Deathstalker cut another person in half as easily as a hot knife through butter. Children screamed at the spray of blood, splattering the faces of people around them. All the while, people were dragging children, friends, and family along by their hands and clothing, trying to reach the assumed safety of an armored autotrain car.

“Get everyone y’all can onto that autotrain,” Yang said, nodding at it. “Prioritize children. I’m not sure how many we can squeeze onto it, but I’m gonna go find the stationmaster.”

“You can’t-- you can’t _leave_ us,” Schnee stammered, and Yang glowered at him.

“Ruby and the others are gonna keep y’all alive,” she told him flatly. “Now let us do our damn jobs.”

It wasn’t the answer Schnee wanted, but he didn’t dare try to argue again. He only narrowed his eyes and allowed Pyrrha to lead them away, trying to pick a path with the least Grimm. Already, some of her fighters were firing their guns at the monsters in their way.

It was a treacherous route to Mr. Russet’s office, but years of experience had prepared her. She kept on the move, even as she reloaded, twisting around the Grimm to avoid them when she couldn’t shoot. There were no White Fang here, she noticed, but she guessed that they’d counted on the Grimm to do most of the work. The air around her was thick with the smell of Fire Dust, the residue from her gunshots. 

Mr. Russet was dead on the floor of his office, sitting against the wall, holding his stomach. It looked as though he’d been gutted, though he must have been able to drag himself across the floor; a trail of blood led from outside the door to the inside, then to the wall where he rested, his head tilted and mouth slightly open. Yang’s stomach churned, and she forced herself to look away. Perhaps the White Fang had thought that, with Mr. Russet dead, there would be no one left who could start the autotrain.

But he’d given Yang a cursory explanation, almost a year ago, when the autotrain was still new. It was simple enough. Four switches, to start the engines. Yang flipped them, then stared down at the button that would start the train. She pressed it.

Eleven minutes, Mr. Russet had told her, so proudly. It would take eleven minutes for the engines to start and warm up. Enough time to get the passengers to sit down on the train, and to ensure the tracks were properly cleared. Sticking to his meticulous schedule, he could time their arrival in Argus down to the exact minute. Autotrains were a miraculous feat of Dust technology, he’d declared.

Now, it was time to put it to the test.

Yang had no sooner pressed the button than she was running back out the door. The train let out a whistle, a warning of its impending departure. She could hear the autotrain’s engines begin to run, a chugging sound that vibrated beneath their feet. All that was left to do was spread the word, and hopefully check in with Weiss and Pyrrha, and then she could finally (finallyfinally_finally_) resume her hunt for Blake.

“Ten minutes!” she screamed, firing her guns at the Grimm who dared stand in her way. “The train’s leavin’ in ten minutes!”

The people who heard her gave a sudden surge, starting to panic that they wouldn’t get to the train on time. A Creep directly in front of her lunged, its gaping maw biting the head and torso of a woman who’d tried to run. Its teeth _crunched_, and Yang emptied her guns on it, but it was too late.

She forced herself to run past what was left of the woman, averting her eyes.

Some of the Grimm were so _big_. There was no way even Yang could kill some of the Deathstalkers currently scuttling around the depot, not without wasting precious minutes. She had to settle with shooting the monsters she knew she could kill-- the smaller Deathstalkers, the Creeps, the Ravagers. The King Taijitus weren’t armored, but they were so large that spending much time on one would be fruitless. So Yang stuck with evasion; she needed to reach the train, and it was with her focus on speed that she almost didn’t notice the Ravager descend.

“Yang!” someone yelled, a light, familiar voice. It was all the warning she had, but it was also the only warning she needed. Her first instinct was to duck, and she felt the claws of a Ravager grasp feebly at her hat, knocking it off her head. She growled, eyes flashing red, firing two shots into the Ravager before she even had time to process what had happened.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, only then turning back to see who had saved her ass.

It was Penny, little whisps of red hair flaring up at her temples. She looked tired, but she brightened when Yang offered her a grateful smile. In her hands, she clutched a purple sword that Yang recognized as the very first prototype of the Gravity Dust Sword. Apparently, Ruby had entrusted it to Penny. Yang nodded to it.

“Nice sword,” she remarked, and Penny beamed.

“Ruby said I was doing so well that she trusted me with a Dust sword!” she said happily, holding it aloft. “And now I’m _combat ready_!”

Yang snorted, the absurdity of Penny’s words somehow making Yang’s outlook a _little _less bleak. “So y’all’re all right?”

“I haven’t fought _that _many yet,” she admitted, a little sheepish. “So I’m trying to take out little ones to start with.”

“Good, good,” Yang said, nodding. “That’s the best way to start. But let’s go. We gotta find Ruby.”

“Is she in trouble?”

“Hopefully not…” Yang winced. “But whatever the case may be, she’s gonna need our help.”

“You got it!” Penny said, shifting the sword to her other hand to wipe her sweaty palm on her skirts. “Then let’s go.”

At least it didn’t take too long to find them. Schnee stood in the doorway of one of the train cars, yelling at Weiss and Pyrrha. Yang’s jaw clenched. Even when Mantle was burning around them, he had to find something to rant about.

“_Now_, Weiss!” he told them, his voice one tick away from exploding.

“I’m not leaving Mantle!” Weiss snapped. “I can fight. I’m not going to abandon the town like _you’re_ doing.”

“Weiss,” Pyrrha said quietly. “Go.”

“That train is gonna pull outta the station _soon_!” Yang yelled. None of them even acknowledged her. She was still too far away to be immediately noticed above the general uproar.

“Ruby!” Penny called. Ruby’s red poncho was unmistakable, even in the angry hellfires of Mantle. She swung her scythe at a Creep, the point driving into its eyeless skull. Penny raised her sword, leaping at a second Creep as another whistle on the train blew. 

Whitley poked his head out of the train door, looking more like a frightened child than the manipulative mastermind Yang had come to expect from him. She couldn’t hear whatever he’d said, but Schnee looked up sharply, and both Pyrrha and Weiss whirled around. With a frown, Yang turned to see what they were looking at, and her heart ran cold.

Adam looked _alive _in the firelight, seemingly unconcerned at the Grimm surrounding him. One hand was wrapped around the hilt of his sheathed sword, and in the other, he held a revolver. Any hope that he might not have been a good shot died as he pointed it skyward, at a Ravager that was threateningly close. He had come prepared with Fire Dust bullets. He blasted the monster apart in the sky, ash sprinkling his black shirt.

“Jacques Schnee,” he drawled, sauntering closer. “Oh, how I’ve _waited_ for this day.”

Yang took a step back. He didn’t seem to have noticed that she was there. His masked eyes were for Schnee alone, and Yang knew she had a chance. If she could somehow get behind his back…

“You son of a _bitch_,” Schnee spat, but there was fear in those icy eyes.

Yang sidestepped slowly, hardly daring to breathe, trying to inch her way around Adam’s back. If she could catch him by surprise, get a clear shot--

And, like he always did, Schnee ruined it. 

Yang had no idea where he might have gotten a gun. Maybe someone had given it to him for self-defense as they pushed their way to the autotrain. Maybe he’d taken it from someone. All she knew was that Adam was ready for it. His lips twisted into a cruel smile as he drew his blade and tilted it across his body. Across from her, Ruby and Penny turned, almost in slow-motion, faces stricken with horror, and Yang, usually so quick to react, found herself frozen in place as she watched the spectacle unfold.

It all happened so fast.

Schnee pulled the trigger and emptied his gun, six shots firing in rapid succession, continuing to pull the trigger long after he ran out of bullets. His aim would have been shitty, even if it hadn’t been for the Dust in Adam’s sword. His aim never mattered.

Ruby screamed.

Yang, whose eyes had been locked onto Adam, jerked her head back to her sister, terror punching her in the stomach. Penny was on the ground, and then Yang remembered the scarecrow and the dark purple sword they’d strapped to its arm.

The first sword had attracted Yang’s bullets, but still left the scarecrow littered with bulletholes.

Just like Penny.

“What--?” Adam said, just as surprised as the rest of them, but he caught himself. He didn’t let his guard down. Instead, he raised his voice. “Brothers and sisters of the White Fang!” he yelled, his voice carrying. Even the Grimm seemed quiet. “Our Faunus brothers,” he added. “All of you so-called _slaves_ of the Schnee Dust Company!”

Schnee’s hands were shaking violently, dropping his empty gun. All around her, Yang realized that there were people watching them. White Fang. Faunus. All staying far enough back from the Grimm, but close enough to hear Adam’s words.

“Look at this snivelling, _pathetic_ human man,” he sneered, stalking forward. His sword was still out, the red blade glinting naked in the firelight. Somewhere nearby, there was a howl as someone killed a Creep, but no one acknowledged the sound. Even Ruby’s choked sobs went unnoticed by most. Yang gripped her guns tighter. If he stepped just a little further ahead… “He’s tried to _destroy _us, turn us into _slaves_. No more, brothers and sisters.”

Finally, he sheathed his sword in a dramatic sweep.

“I won’t apologize for retribution.”

She lunged forward a second too late. He fired his gun twice, and with a choked gasp, Schnee fell backwards.

All hell broke loose. 

It was as if the shooting of Jacques Schnee was the cue the White Fang needed. With whoops, with brays, with the chilling mockery of animal cries, they surged forward. Yang felt someone yank the back of her vest, pulling her back. She yelped, swinging her gun up and aiming at the head of the person who’d grabbed her.

The White Fang grunt, a bat-nosed Faunus, took one look at Yang and their jaw dropped.

“You--” they began, and Yang forced a dark smirk that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Me,” she said simply, and fired. Blood splattered her front, spraying her face. She wiped it grimly. 

In the short span of time she’d been distracted, Adam had slipped away into the crowd. Yang cursed, but didn’t stop to look. She ran straight ahead, dodging both the White Fang and members of her own militia, to find her sister.

Ruby knelt on the ground, hunched over Penny’s head in her lap. Her shoulders shook.

“Ruby?” Yang asked gently, giving a quick glance to the autotrain. It had to be ready to go any minute now.

“She’s gone,” Ruby said hollowly. Yang bit the inside of her cheek, allowing herself a long look at Penny. Her mint-green blouse was almost completely red with blood. Yang swallowed hard against the knot in her throat. “It was the sword, Yang. It was just like…”

Ruby choked on a small sob, then shook her head. Tears fell from her eyes, landing onto Penny’s freckles.

“I know.” Yang tore her gaze away from Penny’s bright, lifeless eyes. She felt the sting of tears. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Ruby muttered, wiping her tears away. “I shouldn’ta gave her that sword. But I can’t think about that now. Weiss needs us.”

“Ruby…”

“I’m gonna keep fightin’,” Ruby said, lowering Penny’s head to the ground. She leaned over her, giving Penny a quick kiss to the forehead. “I’ll come back for her.”

Ruby was stronger than Yang could ever hope to be, she thought with incredulity as Ruby straightened. Her sister rubbed at her eyes again and took up Crescent Rose.

What if it had been Blake that died? Yang didn’t like those thoughts that came to her mind, unbidden, as they pushed their way to the train. There would have been no way in hell she could have been so strong.

_Blake_. As soon as they got the train sorted, Yang wouldn’t stop until she’d found Blake.

The final whistle blew on the train. One more minute until departure. At the door, Pyrrha was standing strong, holding against the White Fang as a couple of train passengers carefully carried Schnee inside. There were a couple splotches of blood on his shirt, but the larger wound was on his shoulder. He seemed to be alive. Weiss was gesturing wildly toward the train, but Whitley pointed his finger at her chest, his face almost deformed by his fury.

“Weiss!” Yang yelled. Pyrrha, Weiss, and Whitley all looked up. “That train’s gonna pull outta the station any _minute_! Close that thing up!”

Pyrrha nodded, looking up at Weiss with a bright smile. And then she gasped, staggering backward with uncharacteristic gracelessness as an arrow flew out of the surrounding crowd of people to strike her squarely in the chest.

Yang froze, hardly able to breathe. Pyrrha’s green eyes widened and her smile morphed into a soundless “_o_” as she looked down at the arrow impaled in her chest. She looked back up at Weiss, looking more perplexed than pained.

She collapsed.

Weiss’s scream echoed through the depot, a sound so loud and raw and painful that it woke Yang up. Yang charged toward the knot of Fang fighters, singling out the one holding a bow. She didn’t wait, using her last two bullets in her left gun to blow the woman’s brains out.

Ruby had already sprinted to Pyrrha’s side, and knelt beside her.

“Let me _go_!” Weiss shrieked. Whitley had grabbed her arms, forcibly pulling her back and up, into the train. “_Pyrrha_!”

“Weiss,” Pyrrha mumbled, closing her eyes.

Tears were streaming out of Weiss’s eyes, her broken monocle bobbing against her chest as she tried to wrench herself free. She let out a loud sob, freeing one arm and even managing to elbow Whitley in the eye, but after a grunt of pain, he doubled down on his grip. He yanked her into the train, slamming the door behind them as the train finally began to inch forward. Through the window, Yang could see Weiss, her face red and body shaking, trying to free herself from Whitley grasp, to reach for the door, but another man jumped up to block it. She could still hear Weiss’s screams through the thick walls of the train car as it began to move.

It was the last Yang saw of Weiss, when she finally wriggled free of her captors’ grip. She threw herself against the window, smacking it with her hand, still screaming Pyrrha’s name as the train whistled again, rolling down the tracks and away from the smoking ruins of Mantle.

Yang swore violently, taking out her anger by using the last of her right gun’s bullets on a nearby Ravager. It did nothing to abate her rage or her grief. She joined her sister at Pyrrha’s side, crouching and taking Pyrrha’s hand. She was relieved to see that Pyrrha was still breathing, though the gasps were shallow and agonizing.

“Is there anything you can do for her?” she asked Ruby in a low voice.

“We gotta get her outta here. Fast.”

“I’ll find Jaune and the others.”

They weren’t hard to find. Jaune was no fighter, so he was sticking to the fringes of the crowd, struggling to fend off a small Deathstalker. Yang finished it off with a quick shot of Fire Dust.

“Pyrrha’s been wounded!” she shouted. He looked up, still looking surprised that the beast he’d been fighting had so quickly vanished into ash. He blinked, not comprehending her words.

“Pyrrha?” he repeated stupidly as he looked Yang up and down. She must have been a sight, covered in blood from the bat-nosed Faunus she’d killed, but she had little patience for his questions.

“Ruby’s got her now, but she needs to be moved. If you could find Ren--”

“Wait, she’s _hurt_? Is that her blood?!”

“Jaune!” Yang snapped. “Just go to them! Find Ren and Nora, and go help Ruby!”

All Jaune managed to do was nod, eyes still wide.

“They’re at the train tracks,” she added hurriedly. “It’s…” She took a jagged breath, thinking of the way the arrow had stuck out of Pyrrha’s chest. “...bad.”

Jaune paled, then nodded again. “I’m on it. What about you?”

“I,” she said, lips curling into a snarl as she ejected the casings from her gun, “am gonna take care of the White Fang, once and for all.”

\--

With the train gone, most of the Grimm began to disperse through the town. Many of them chased after the train, following the large concentration of fear and panic, which was a relief to Yang. The train would pick up enough speed to shake off the Grimm, and the passengers would be safe until they reached Argus the next day. Distantly, Yang knew she would need to radio Argus, if no one else had already.

Maybe she could send someone to Argus, for Weiss. The image of her, pounding on the train’s window, was one she wasn’t likely to soon forget.

But there were more immediate problems to consider.

Yang reached the point where she’d last seen Adam, then stopped to look around. Some Grimm still stormed the area, though she took out the little Deathstalker that had started to advance on her. Penny’s body still lay nearby, and Yang couldn’t help but walk over to it.

She might have been sleeping, she thought dully. If it weren’t for the six bulletholes and all that _blood_…

Yang snapped her head away, trying not to think of scarecrows and swords. She needed to find out where Adam had gone.

She needed to find Blake.

She gave one last glance to Ruby, who was still kneeling beside Pyrrha’s limp form. She’d trimmed the arrow to a shorter length, though she hadn’t yet pulled it out. She seemed to be giving instructions to Jaune, Ren, and Nora, who stood in a somber circle around them. From her vantage point, Yang couldn’t tell if Pyrrha was even breathing.

Yang could be of no help to them now.

Instead, she broke into a run, tearing through the streets in the direction she’d thought Adam might have gone. At least there were fewer White Fang around. Many of them were busy breaking windows and setting more buildings on fire. A few were even looting, something they had previously refrained from doing to Mantle. It was their celebration, Yang supposed. Celebrating their triumph over the SDC and Jacques Schnee.

The only part of the town that remained untouched, she noticed, was the Faunus quarter. At least the Faunus would be safe. They were probably tucked in their homes, waiting it out, and honestly, Yang couldn’t blame them. They’d had no access to weapons, and the White Fang had no reason to do any harm to them, as long as they stayed out of the way.

Still… it hurt. Yang had been on their side, and she had hoped more of them would have at least _tried_ to help her.

Ahead of her, a lop-eared member of the White Fang raised a crowbar, his back to her, smashing the window of a storefront. Yang didn’t think twice. She sprinted to him, one arm going around his neck to hold him in a chokehold as she pressed a gun to his temple. He gasped, too shocked to fight back.

“Tell me where Adam is!” she demanded.

“Wha-- Who--?”

“Tell me where he is, or I swear to the gods, I’m blowin’ a hole through your skull!” Threateningly, she pressed the barrel even harder to his head. The man-- hardly more than a boy, really-- moaned in fear.

“He went-- chasin’ that girl!” he stammered, dropping the crowbar.

“What girl?”

“That… _Belladonna_! The traitor, that Belladonna girl, or whatever. Cat ears!”

“She was here?”

“Yeah!” The boy licked his lips nervously, shaking under Yang’s grip. “Please, don’t shoot.”

“Where’d they go?”

“I dunno-- it looked like she was headin’ toward the church, but I ain’t positive. Please, don’t--”

Disgusted, Yang lowered the gun and gave the boy a shove. He whimpered, not bothering to pick up his crowbar before running from her as fast as his legs could carry him. She hoped she wouldn’t regret sparing his life, but he was young, and clearly not a fighter. He hardly fit into the mask on his face.

So she let him go, making her way toward the church.

The _church_. It was one of the places the White Fang had bombed on their last attack. It hadn’t yet been fully rebuilt, and Yang suspected that all the progress toward its repair, all the donations of charitable townsfolk, would all be for naught.

“Blake!” she called as she got closer, sidestepping Grimm, shooting when necessary. Even if Blake wasn’t _at _the church… if she was just nearby… “Blake! Where are you?”

Some of the White Fang looked up at her, but either they didn’t recognize her as the famous gunslinger, or they just didn’t care. And why should they? They already destroyed Mantle. They’d already won.

Yang halted for a moment a block from the church, taking the opportunity to shoot a nearby Creep and reload. She was starting to run low on ammo. She strained her ears, hoping to hear Blake calling for her. Hell, even hoping to hear Adam’s low commands. Anything that might give her a hint of where Blake could be.

Nothing.

She tried to swallow her ever-growing panic. If Adam got to her first…

“_Blake_!” she screamed, panic saturating her words.

Then, a cry of pain.

Yang’s eyes widened, raising her guns automatically as she darted toward the source. There, to the side of the burning half-built church…

Blake was sprawled on her back, desperately trying to keep herself propped up on one elbow. Her other hand clutched her side, blood seeping between her fingertips. And over her, Adam, his angry red sword poised to stab again.

Yang couldn’t stop the bloodcurdling scream of primal fear that erupted from her throat or the tears that began to start in her eyes. At the sound of her scream, Adam turned, his smirk triumphant.

“Get away from her!” she howled. She aimed her guns behind her, flipping the switch and firing herself forward.

Point-blank range. She had to get into point-blank range.

She swung her right gun forward.

“_Yang_!” Blake screamed.

There was a flash of searing pain, then all went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can explain--
> 
> Actually, I'm going to save most of my explanations for the next chapter. This story isn't over yet. The next chapter is going to basically begin the third/final "act" of this fic. This chapter, and probably the next, are going to be the most painful chapters in the whole story, but things will get better. I did warn y'all that this would be a dark fic, and now, that darkness is reaching its peak. Sorry, y'all. But I promise... happy ending. I always have happy endings.
> 
> Thanks to [Aziminil](https://aziminil.tumblr.com/) for being my beta reader! Also thank you to [grimmfluence](https://grimmfluence.tumblr.com/) for gunshot consultation, and [qualiteablogger](https://qualiteablogger.tumblr.com/) (aka the esteemed timeespaceandpixiedust, who wrote the infamous [courtroom au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18278552/chapters/43257419)) for helping me figure out wounds! I'd be doomed without their help.


	15. Act III -- Gunslinger, Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ### Act III -- Gunslinger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicidal thoughts and actions, general depressive feelings, a brief, unpleasant description of a wound being treated

Outside. Yang didn’t necessarily want to be outside, but Taiyang was getting more and more insistent about her need for fresh air.

So she stared around her, at the green, empty plains of Patch. This wasn’t the desert she had gotten to know so well, but it was familiar. The ranch was mostly pasture, with a dedicated area for growing vegetables. There was even a tiny grove of pecan trees, planted before Yang was even born. She’d missed pecan season, but it didn’t really matter, she supposed.

Even for the simple task of harvesting pecans, she would have been useless.

Yang kept her sleeve tied beneath the stump of her right arm. It had healed, though it continued to ache. Day and night, she massaged the bruise salve onto the jagged, messy scar. It was painful to work the stuff in, but the pain abated somewhat when she used it. Ruby had apologized profusely for the state of her stump; she had lost a lot of blood, and there had been no time to stitch it up in a way that would have made it at least a little prettier.

Instead, it had been cauterized.

Yang wasn’t sure how she’d gotten away from Adam. Blake had done something, she presumed. She couldn’t remember much about what happened after he’d swung his sword. There was a very brief moment of dimmed consciousness after it happened, and it was only through prodding Ruby that she’d learned that it _was_ a memory, not just a fever dream.

She could remember her head in someone’s lap, the shaking as that person sobbed. Yang remembered droplets of their tears on her face and the constant stream of, _I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry_, that came out of their mouth.

She remembered Ruby’s, _Okay, I’m ready. Blake, get on top of her. You need to hold her down. This might wake her up, and if she comes to, she’s gonna… well, it’s gonna hurt._

Yang had barely been able to process the words. None of it made sense, not even as the person holding her laid her head on the ground.

Blake, she’d managed to realize, just as Blake climbed on top of her. How often had Blake climbed on top of her in the past, to kiss her, to love her? Maybe it was that odd familiarity that comforted her, even when Ruby murmured, _Ready?_

_Ready_, Blake had breathed, her voice thick and choking.

Burning, Yang remembered the burning, remembered the hiss of hot metal on the bleeding stump that had so recently been her arm. But more than that, she remembered the volume of Blake’s sobs as Yang screamed, and screamed, and--

“Y’all right?” Ruby asked anxiously. Yang blinked, and she was overlooking the prairie again. She wasn’t lying on the ground anymore, and she wasn’t screaming.

And Blake was still gone.

“Yeah,” Yang sighed, shaking her head, attempting to clear her thoughts.

“It’s almost like you disappear when you do that,” Ruby said, forehead creasing in a worried frown. Yang nodded, acknowledging, but not knowing what to say.

Tentatively, Ruby touched her shoulder, and exhaustion hit Yang like a wave. She was still so weak, and walking around the ranch was taxing. She’d lost a lot of weight in the couple of months since Mantle had fallen. Most of this could be blamed on inactivity. The first few weeks after returning to Patch, Yang had hardly been able to leave her bed. The pain had been immense, and she’d been out for days at a time with fever. It was like all of her strength had deserted her.

Then, even when she wasn’t feverish, Yang had hardly been able to eat. She slipped in and out of catatonia, her mind unable to process everything that had happened to her. It scared Ruby, but even in her lucid moments, Yang couldn’t even bring herself to care about her sister’s worry.

Everything had deadened around her. The blues of the sky, the greens of the prairie, all of her emotions, all of her drive. All of it was dead.

“I gotta get back to the house,” Yang mumbled, shaking her head. “I need to sit for a little while.”

“Okay,” Ruby said softly, looping her arm in Yang’s, ready to take on her weight should she stumble.

It felt like a long walk, even though the distance to the house was a short one. They passed the barn and the connecting stables. Bumblebee was in one of those stalls, though Yang hadn’t been able to visit her horse since she’d been back. Her easiest excuse was that she was often too tired to be out of bed for long. The real excuse was, of course, much different.

She didn’t want to face her own reality.

Yang knew she wouldn’t be able to drive cattle anymore. Hell, it would be a miracle if she could ever manage to ride with her old finesse again. Though Ruby had assured her that she’d figure out her balance again, and find a new equilibrium, Yang couldn’t even imagine a future where she could ride Bumblebee again.

Yang couldn’t imagine a future at all.

Ruby held onto her arm until they got back to the house, where she opened the door for Yang to enter ahead of her. Once upon a time, Yang might have argued-- she still had one perfectly good arm, and was still quite capable of opening a damn door-- but she couldn’t find the energy for it.

She made a beeline for her bedroom, for the bed she had spent weeks convalescing in. She unbuttoned her pants clumsily, untucking her nightshirt. It was all she _could _wear, or at least all she could bring herself to put on. Her usual shirts were button-downs, and her only attempt at doing the buttons herself had led to tears of frustration. Pants were still a struggle to wear at all; Ruby still needed to help her button them whenever she went outside. Eventually, she’d be able to wear real clothes again.

But not today.

“I’m proud of you,” Ruby said from the doorway. Yang sank onto the mattress, looking up at her. It was such a stupid thing for her sister to say, so she said nothing as she slid herself under the quilt. “It was nice, to walk with you today.”

Yang grunted, closing her eyes. Maybe she’d sleep, maybe she wouldn’t. Neither offered relief. 

“I mean it,” Ruby said. “You’re so strong, Yang.”

“Ruby.” Her voice sounded more like a drone as she covered her eyes with her hand. “Enough. Please.”

For a moment, Ruby said nothing else. Yang didn’t move her hand. Maybe, if she pressed hard enough, she could drown out the light completely.

“Okay,” Ruby finally replied, her voice small. A pause. “I love you.”

Yang said nothing.

\--

For as much time as she spent laying in bed, Yang had trouble sleeping.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the smoking ruins of Mantle. She saw the bodies, heard the screams and gunshots. She saw Penny, her blouse dark with blood. She saw Pyrrha, an arrow protruding from her chest. She saw Adam, his pleased smirk. She saw Blake, sobbing as she held Yang down as Ruby approached with hot metal.

What she saw in her dreams was such a sharp contrast to real life-- her soft bed, the flowers on her nightstand, the cool breeze flowing in from the open window-- that waking up was always a jarring experience. Every time, she’d shoot up in bed, her left arm flying out, vainly reaching for a gun that wasn’t there. Then, she’d remember; she took in the absence of sensation where her right arm should have been, the angry throb of her stump, the too-small size of the bed where she’d been sleeping alone.

When her heart finally stopped pounding, Yang would wipe the sweat from her forehead, then lay herself back down.

It always took her a long time to fall back asleep.

Most of the time, she simply lay there. She’d stare up at the wooden ceiling, counting the knots in the planks, trying not to remember, but inevitably, she would.

Mantle was gone.

Her town, her life there, the people-- gone. She’d watched Crocea Mors burn, she’d seen the rubble that had been her house. She’d lost her arm, and she’d lost the gun it had held. She’d lost everything, and she could still see everything burn away each time she closed her eyes. So much fire, so much blood, so much smoke and ash.

Mantle was gone, and it was all Yang’s fault.

That realization was what fueled her nightmares, what plagued her thoughts even when she was awake. It had been Yang who had met with Sienna. It had been Yang who’d pushed Sienna for a deal. It was because of Yang that Adam had been able to take over the White Fang. It was Yang who had refused to evacuate the town.

All those lives lost rested squarely on Yang’s shoulders.

It had been reassuring-- a little, anyway-- to hear that Jaune, Ren, and Nora were still alive when Ruby left town. Even Pyrrha had still been clinging to life. According to Ruby, the arrow had lodged in her sternum, which meant neither her lungs or heart had been punctured, and Ruby was optimistic that Pyrrha had survived. Not that they had heard anything since then to either confirm or deny it. It was impossible to know where their friends had gone after that night. Nobody had a backup plan for what would happen if Mantle was destroyed-- no one had needed one--, and Ruby didn’t have time to wait for them to figure it out.

Her primary concern that night had been to keep Yang alive.

She had feared that Yang wouldn’t survive at all on the long journey to the prairies of Patch. Fevers had plagued her, on and off, though Ruby had been able to get a hold of some antibiotic pills in Argus. They hadn’t stayed there long; the doctors there had cleaned Yang’s wound as best as they could, but there was little more they could do. The cauterization had been effective. The most they could do was try to keep infection at bay.

“They gave us the pills free of charge,” Ruby had explained quietly, after Yang had regained enough awareness to hold a conversation. “Which was good, considerin’ I didn’t have any lien on me the night we got out… your reputation saved you. The doctors woulda bent over backwards to help the Gunslinger.”

“Gunslinger,” Yang had echoed. Her stump throbbed, burned. She wasn’t a gunslinger. Not anymore.

The famous Gunslinger had died in Mantle that night. All that was left was a husk.

Ruby had gone on to explain that she’d looked for Weiss in Argus, but had been told that the whole Schnee family had stopped long enough for a doctor, then had gone straight on to Atlas. There had been no word on Weiss, or Whitley, or even Jacques.

Not that Ruby had the chance to truly investigate, or pursue them. Armed with antibiotics, she loaded Yang into a wagon and driven them to Patch. If Yang _was _going to die, Ruby wanted to ensure that their father would have a chance to say goodbye.

“You were so sick,” Ruby had gone on to say, her face pale. “Even when the fever didn’t have you, you like… couldn’t respond. You were like that for weeks.”

It added up. Yang remembered very little of the events after she’d lost her arm. There was the occasional snippet-- the cauterization, the jolt of a wagon, Ruby’s worried murmurs-- but aside from that, those weeks were lost.

“And when you did talk…” Ruby had added, hesitantly, “you only said the same thing, over and over.”

_Blake? Where’s Blake?_

\--

Blake was gone.

She was still alive, as far as Ruby knew. She’d been stabbed, a nasty wound on her left hip, though she hadn’t said a word of complaint as Ruby stitched her up. She hadn’t taken her eyes off Yang, hadn’t let go of her remaining hand. 

_I’m so sorry_, she had repeated. _I’m so sorry._

Ruby had tried to remind her that none of this-- not the destruction of Mantle, not the Grimm, not even the loss of Yang’s arm-- was her fault, that she had nothing to apologize for.

“I thought… I thought that she just needed a breather,” Ruby told Yang, looking ashamed. “I told her to get some air. She just… never came back.”

Blake had taken Ribbon, which Ruby had discovered when Sun managed to find her. He hadn’t thought to question her, not until she was riding away from the town, in the opposite direction of Argus. Ruby had insisted he take one of her own horses, to go after her. Ruby hadn’t realized that Blake was truly _leaving_. 

“I just thought she was going after more Grimm, or something. Chasin’ down some of the Fang. I thought she’d be back before we left, but you… I couldn’t afford to wait long.” Ruby paused, her silver eyes glassy. “I’m sorry, Yang.”

Yang stared, her grief hitting deeper than tears could ever express.

Maybe she had been selfish, wishing for Blake to be there to comfort her. It was a wish that she didn’t deserve, and Yang could see that now. She didn’t deserve comfort, not after being responsible for the destruction of the town she’d sworn to protect. Maybe Blake’s departure was her punishment, her atonement. So Yang held onto her emptiness.

It was all she had left.

\--

Waking up in her childhood bedroom every day was so surreal.

It was like stepping back in time, to an easier, simpler life. This was her life _before _Yang had become the famous Gunslinger. This had been before she’d gotten sucked into politics and racism and massacres. She had been so innocent then. All she had worried about were her father, sister, and uncle, the horses. Gunslinging was little more than a game, something to boast about on her cattle drives. When stories of her prowess began to spread, she basked in the glory it brought her.

She _was_ the Gunslinger, with Summer’s guns riding low on her hips.

Yang could almost see that version of herself, in her mind’s eye. The Yang of her past still had such a presence in this bedroom, haunting its corners like a ghost. The Yang of today felt suffocated by her.

Yang pulled the blanket over her head, trying to escape herself.

“Yang!” Ruby called. “Breakfast!”

“I’m not hungry,” Yang replied tiredly, poking her head out from under the blanket. Ruby chose that moment to poke her head in, looking worried.

“You still gotta eat.”

“I’ll eat later.”

“Yang!” Taiyang roared from the dining room. “You gotta build your strength up, kiddo. Up and at ‘em.”

It was nearly three months since Ruby and Yang had returned from Mantle, though all the days were blurring together for Yang. It was like a haze had settled around her, smothering her. Not that Ruby or Taiyang could see that haze. Taiyang was becoming more and more vocal about how Yang needed to get up, and get used to her new life. Ruby, while more sympathetic, agreed.

“Let me know when you’re ready to get up,” Ruby said encouragingly. “I can help with the buttons.”

“Thanks,” Yang said hollowly, watching the door close behind her sister.

She suspected breakfast would be cold by the time she finished getting ready, but it didn’t make her move any faster. She moved sluggishly through the bedroom, pulling clothes out of her dresser without caring if they matched or not. She didn’t bother with a bra; she didn’t plan on being up long enough to need it. It was hard enough to deal with her shirts, since Taiyang had finally forbidden her from wearing nightshirts whenever she went outside. She had to practice using buttons, he insisted, and each morning, the long ordeal of buttoning her shirt left her in near-tears.

The fingers on her left hand felt fat and clumsy as she pulled a button hole toward a button. The fabric slipped, and Yang let out a whimpering groan with frustration. She could almost feel the pitying eyes of her past self on her.

_This is what you’ll become_, she thought angrily, gnashing her teeth. _So don’t you dare look at me like that_.

After what felt like an inordinate amount of time, Yang finished her buttons. She sighed with relief, then lay back down. For only a moment, of course. Just to catch her breath. She still had to work her pants on, but just _thinking _about it was exhausting, even though Ruby would still help her button the fly. 

“Yang?” There was a knock on her door, thought Ruby didn’t wait for Yang to respond before opening it. “Y’all set with your shirt?”

“Yeah.” Yang forced herself to sit up, grabbing her pants. “I made sure to do ‘em right today.”

The day before, Yang had finished buttoning her shirt only to find that she’d misaligned the button holes. She _had_ cried then; what would have only been an annoyance to someone with two hands had sent Yang spiraling into a fresh depressive episode. Ruby had taken pity on her then, redoing all of the buttons for her. That whole day had been overshadowed by her damn _buttons_.

“Good!” Ruby said, beaming as Yang worked her legs into her pants. This part, at least, wasn’t too hard. At some point, she’d figure out how to do the fly herself, but that was a fight for another day. “Dad wants you to help with the chickens again today.”

Yang grunted. Taiyang was a practical man; he seemed to think that enough hard work would make her forget all of her problems.

What a joke.

As predicted, Yang’s breakfast was cold by the time she made it to the breakfast table. She didn’t bother complaining; knowing her father, he’d probably say something like, _Well, if you wanted a hot breakfast, you shoulda woken up sooner!_

Or maybe she was judging him too harshly. Either way, it wasn’t worth the effort. She took a few bites of her cold eggs, hardly tasting them anyway.

She walked to the barn with Ruby, letting her sister’s conversation float over her as Yang felt herself drift away. How could Ruby continue to sound so cheerful? Her best friend was dead, wielding a sword Yang should never had asked for in the first place. She knew Ruby had to have been feeling grief for the citizens of Mantle. But how was she still able to carry on so easily?

Ruby was so much stronger than Yang ever could be. She’d proven that in the way she’d saved Yang’s life, and in managing to bring her home. She hadn’t been swept away by her own despair like Yang had.

Ruby was a better woman than Yang could have ever hoped to be.

“Yang?” Ruby asked sadly, resting a hand on her shoulder. 

Yang blinked, realizing she’d come to a stop outside the barn. She didn’t know how long she’d been standing in place, staring at the wide doors with a blank expression. It had been Ruby’s touch that had brought her back to life.

“Yeah,” Yang replied, still sounding dazed. “I’m here.”

There were few chores Yang was capable of doing. Maybe, in time, she’d be able to shovel muck with one hand, or maneuver a pitchfork of hay to the horses. For now, though, she was still weak. Practice would help her build her strength back up, and Taiyang was convinced that before she knew it, she’d be capable of doing just about anything an able-bodied person could do. All she had to do was _practice_, and _adapt_.

But right now, all Yang could do was take care of the chickens.

With one hand, Yang could scatter scratch on the ground for the chickens. While they pecked at it, she went into the coop, setting the basket on the ground in order to collect their eggs. It was child’s work. It was also one of the few things Yang was able to do by herself.

Ruby was still busy with the horses when Yang finished, so she set the egg basket on the floor as she waited. She considered visiting Bumblebee, but immediately decided against it. She didn’t want to get in Ruby’s way.

She leaned back against the wall, staring up at the hayloft. She could almost see herself as a child, excitedly bounding up the ladder with Ruby at her heels. The hayloft had always been their secret hideout; it was a place to play, a place to giggle with each other. It had also been their refuge when they were sad, where Yang had crawled up to cry after Summer had died. Later, as a teenager, she’d returned there after meeting Raven, to cry once more. As many fun memories as the hayloft had, it was also full of memories of being left behind.

She knew it wasn’t off-limits to her, but it probably wasn’t safe to climb up there by herself. Not now. If she lost balance and fell, she could very well die.

Although... Yang considered the height for a moment. Maybe falling wouldn’t be such a bad thing. 

Not for the first time, she regretted that she was unable to tie a noose anymore. The height of the hayloft would have been enough to get the job done, if only she’d been able to tie that noose.

It seemed a cruel punishment, that she hadn’t been allowed the luxury of death after the fall of Mantle. She was forced to reckon with the aftermath of that destruction, to watch the world crumble around her and bear the burden of responsibility for it. She got to watch everyone she’d known disappear from her life, to feel the pain as so many of them died. Even Blake, her love, her heart, had left her. Abandoned her. She’d been left behind once more.

And all of it-- every ounce of guilt, every bit of icy despair that curdled in her blood-- was what she deserved.

Still, it didn’t stop Yang from fantasizing about oblivion. Life was so much more painful than death ever could have been.

When she finally got back to the house, she staggered back to bed, loosening the buttons on her pants. It was all she had the energy to do. She couldn’t even bring herself to pull her pants off, or unbutton her shirt.

What she wouldn’t have given to sleep at Blake’s side again, she thought, feeling a flare of hatred for herself as she pulled the blanket over her head. Instead, the only company she kept was the ghost of the woman she’d once been.

It filled the room, suffocating her.

\--

It must have been a weekend. Like most weekends, Taiyang didn’t force Yang to get out of bed first thing in the morning. Yang was always grateful for the respite, but it didn’t stop her from waking up at the usual time. She groaned, cursing how quickly her body acclimated to its daily schedule. At least she wouldn’t have to change into real clothes yet.

And waking up early was a break from the nightmares. Each morning, she awoke in a cold sweat. Not even time had been able to assuage them.

She hated the nightmares. She hated that they stole the restfulness away from her sleep. She would have been grateful for a dreamless slumber, and actually be able to wake up refreshed. Was restful sleep just another thing she didn’t deserve?

Then again, her nightmares allowed her to see Blake. In her dreams, amid the fire and darkness, Blake stood before her, staring at her sadly.

_I’m so sorry_, dream-Blake said. When Yang reached out to touch her, she drifted away into smoke. Seeing Blake in those nightmares was agony, torture.

Yet it was a pain she couldn’t help but crave.

Yang rose from her bed, stumbling over to her desk. She pulled out the chair and sat in it, looking dismally at the messy jumble of papers strewn there. Ruby had suggested Yang try to learn to write again, with her left hand. Yang had written simple sentences, practiced signing her name. It looked like a child’s handwriting, and no one would have recognized it as her own. It was crooked, the sentences running on a downward slant. The letters were smudged, from where her hand had rubbed against the wet ink.

Funny, how she had taken so simple a thing, like a signature, for granted.

She pushed the papers off to the side, then slid open a drawer. It had been a drawer that she hadn’t been able to bring herself to open before, but for some reason, she did now. Maybe it was from seeing the dream-apparition of Blake again, or maybe it was because she still felt haunted by her past self. Perhaps it even had something to do with the steady drone in her heart, that yearning to be done with the suffering of her body and mind.

Her hand brushed over the soft leather of her gunbelt, both so familiar and so foreign. It had been a part of her, once.

Only now, the right holster was empty. Yang had visions of that gun lying in the ruins of Mantle, clutched by the skeletal remains of her hand. What would Summer say, if she’d known Yang had lost her precious gun?

Yang withdrew the remaining gun from the other holster, the wooden grip duller than she remembered. The roses etched into the barrel seemed darker, too. She used to be so careful about keeping her guns cleaned and shined to perfection. Now, she hadn’t even touched her remaining gun in months. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, to no one in particular. To her mother, to Blake, to Ruby, to Mantle. She’d let them all down.

She pushed open the cylinder, seeing the empty chambers. Someone, probably Ruby, had emptied it. Yang drew out a single bullet from one of her ammo pouches-- Fire Dust-- and set it on the desk. She simply stared at it.

It could all be over quickly. So quickly. No more nightmares, no more guilt, no more visions from the past. She’d destroyed the lives of so many people. What right did she have, to keep going when so many others could not?

She slipped the bullet into a chamber, then clicked the cylinder back into place. It was awkward with one hand, and slow. It was just another reminder that she was no longer a gunslinger, no longer worthy of bearing such a weapon.

So long ago-- it felt like years, eons, an eternity-- Blake had been there to see Yang shove the barrel of a gun into a man’s mouth.

_Tell me_, she’d demanded of him, _how does my gun taste?_

Years of Dust residue had left a sour, acrid taste on the cold metal. It was unpleasant, unyielding, and so _final_. Yang closed her eyes, trying to imagine the aftermath of this last horrible decision. There was truly no going back from this. In doing this, Yang was finally admitting that there was no hope. Was this what she wanted? Was this what she _truly _wanted?

It wasn’t.

With a choked sob, Yang pulled the gun out of her mouth. She gently placed it on the desk, even though the sounds that erupted out of her throat were violent and hard. Her hand shook as she covered her eyes, trying to hide the hot, wet tears. Gods, what was she _doing_?

“Yang?”

Ruby didn’t knock, she simply pushed the door open. Yang’s sobs must have been loud enough to alert her, though she tried to hold them in. She huddled in on herself, even as she felt Ruby’s arms wrap around her.

“I’m-- I’m sorry!” she gasped, clutching at her sister.

“It’s okay,” Ruby said soothingly, her voice so young and high-pitched. Yang was aware of Ruby reaching around her, pushing the gun further away. The only thing that betrayed her worry was the way her arms tightened around Yang. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not!” Tears spilled out of her eyes and onto Ruby’s shirt. She buried her face in Ruby’s stomach, ashamed of them. She’d been so good at keeping the tears at bay-- what right had she to cry?-- but now they all came out in a flood.

“You will be,” Ruby said reassuringly, rubbing her back, stroking her hair. “Just give it time.”

“You don’t understand,” Yang insisted, shuddering. Her voice hardly sounded like her own, so thick with sobs and grief. “Everything that happened… It’s all my fault.”

Then words came spilling out with her tears: her secret meeting with Sienna, finding her head on their doorstep, Blake’s fears, her own stupid refusal to evacuate. It felt oddly cathartic, to finally admit to Ruby the part she had played in the fall of Mantle. Now Ruby could understand. Now _she_ could hate Yang, too.

“And Penny…” Yang shook her head. Her face felt swollen. “If I hadn’t told y’all to make those swords--”

“No,” Ruby said firmly, pulling back in order to meet Yang square in the eyes. “You ain’t takin’ that death for yourself.”

“But I--”

“I shoulda thought through the consequences of usin’ a Gravity Dust sword in battle,” she said, the grief in her words only adding to their strength. “But ultimately, even Penny’s… even her death wasn’t _just _my fault. No one woulda died if Adam and the White Fang hadn’t shown up to begin with. It’s _them_ who destroyed Mantle, not you.”

“But it’s because of me that--”

“If it wasn’t you who gave him an excuse to attack, he woulda found another reason. Even if Sienna was still alive, I bet he woulda found a way to do this. The White Fang’s done this sorta thing before, remember?”

“Just not on such a large _fuckin’ _scale.” Yang wiped at her eyes, looking away from her sister. “I shoulda evacuated the town.”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “It… probably would have been a good idea,” she admitted. “But you can’t keep all the blame for yourself. The whole reason the town existed at all was because of that mine, and all the awful things Schnee did to keep it runnin’. The White Fang wouldn’t have had a reason to attack at all if they’d treated the Faunus right to begin with.”

“Adam would have,” Yang replied, feeling a chill sink into her stomach. “He wanted to get back at me. He wanted to get back at…”

_Blake_. But Yang couldn’t even say her name. She choked on the word, and Yang covered her eyes again as a fresh wave of tears trickled out.

Ruby leaned in, pulling Yang into another embrace.

“She loves you, Yang,” she whispered.

“She ran,” Yang replied flatly.

“She loves you,” Ruby reiterated. “What if… that’s why she left? What if she’s blamin’ herself right now, just like you are?”

“Why does it matter?” Yang closed her eyes. “Either way, she’s still gone.”

“I know.” Ruby combed her fingers through the knots in Yang’s hair. “And I’m so, so sorry.”

Ruby held her, not letting go even after Yang had run out of tears. For all that Yang had felt she hadn’t deserved comfort, or reassurance, or love, her body soaked up all that Ruby offered her. She was too lonely, too broken, to resist it any longer. 

She didn’t argue when Ruby took the gun and unloaded it, slipping the bullet back into the ammo pouch. She watched dully, slumped in her seat.

“Mind if I hold onto your ammo for a bit?” Ruby asked lightly. Yang nodded.

“Yeah,” she croaked. “‘Course.”

Neither of them acknowledged the reason Ruby took her ammo. It was probably more to ease Ruby’s worries, anyway. Yang knew that she wouldn’t taste her own gun again.

She already knew that, for some reason, some part of her still wanted to live.

\--

That night, Ruby wiggled herself into Yang’s bed. It was a tight fit, but her presence reminded Yang of their childhood, when they would stay up long past bedtime. Yang used to spin wild stories for Ruby, of adventures on the range, of Summer’s exploits, of bandits and cowboys and Grimm. 

“I bet they tell stories about you now,” Ruby whispered, slipping a hand under her pillow. “About the famous gunslinger.”

“They shouldn’t,” Yang replied in a low voice. “I’m the last person anyone should wanna grow up to be.”

“Are you kiddin’?” Ruby reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’ve done so much. Accomplished so many things. And you’re so _brave_.”

“And look where it got me.”

“Your story ain’t over yet, Yang,” Ruby told her, her smile full of quiet confidence. “I _promise_.”

\--

Winter came and went.

Yang’s life found something of a routine. She’d wake up in the morning, and help around the ranch as much as she could. Though she regained some of her lost strength through activity, there was very little she could do with one arm. With one hand, she fed the chickens and collected eggs, carefully setting each egg into the basket on the floor. She gave the horses grain and helped as much as she could with mucking out the stalls; she couldn’t scoop much manure at a time, but she was beginning to find her slow, new rhythm.

Still, she hated that the burden of most of the work was on her sister and father.

“It’s all right!” Taiyang assured her once, when she’d dropped a shovelful of shit all of the floor of the barn. Yang had groaned, aiming a kick at the shovel and sending it into the wall. Taiyang hurried over, scraping the horse droppings off the floor with his own shovel. “See?” he said, with that irrational _cheer_ in his voice. “No harm done!”

“It’s useless!” Yang snapped. She balled her hand into a fist, storming over to where she’d kicked her shovel. To her surprise, tears began to sting her eyes. “I can’t _do_ it. I can’t work in a barn, I can’t shovel _shit_, I can’t shoot, I can’t--”

“Enough with the _can’ts_,” Taiyang said, tone shifting to something more serious. “You’re stronger than that, Yang. If anyone’s capable of adaptin’, it’s you.”

Yang knew how pathetic she was, but if she had to hear the word _adapt_ one more time, she’d throw the next shovelful at her father.

Instead of doing that, she crouched, picking up the shovel once again. She had to keep using her muscles, or she really _would _be useless.

Yang was still slow in nearly everything she did. Getting dressed still took far too long in the mornings. Bras were frustrating. She was getting better at buttoning her shirts. Pants were still a struggle; Ruby still had to do up the buttons, which made things frustrating whenever she needed to relieve herself.

But at least she wasn’t a total invalid. Even if she didn’t have much left for herself, Yang wanted to pull as much weight as she could. So she did.

Her muscles ached by the time they finished mucking, her shoulders coated with a sheen of sweat. Her stump ached, though it did not burn. The ghost of her arm felt just as tired as her remaining one.

“You did great, kiddo!” Taiyang said encouragingly. Yang wiped her forehead with her dangling right sleeve.

“I didn’t do _that_ much.”

“But you’re doin’ better than last week!”

Yang shrugged. “I guess.”

“And I’ve been thinkin’... maybe you oughta get back on Bumblebee.”

“Huh?” Yang narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “I can’t even get on her, let alone ride.”

“I’m not askin’ you to gallop off into the sunset,” he told her, rolling his eyes. “We can use a stepstool to get you on her, and you don’t have to do anything more than walk. If you want to ride again, you gotta learn to balance first. Don’t you wanna ride?”

Yang hesitated. She’d never gone so long without riding before, and she did miss it. A part of her still felt like she didn’t deserve to ride again, that Bumblebee was better off without her.

But gods, how she missed it.

“Yeah,” she finally agreed. “I do.”

Taiyang jutted his chin toward Bumblebee’s stall. “Then let’s give it a shot.”

With one arm, Yang couldn’t saddle the horse up. So she leaned against a stall, watching moodily as Taiyang did the work for her. Guilt, now a familiar friend, worked its way into her stomach. Yang had neglected Bumblebee in the months she’d been back. She’d managed to visit from time to time, but it had been Ruby and Taiyang who took care of her. Yang had never been able to let herself watch as Ruby rode her periodically. It hurt too much, seeing her sister work so easily with her horse.

Maybe, she thought hopefully now, her riding days didn’t have to be over.

Taiyang kept his arms up, ready to catch, as Yang set her first boot into the stirrup. She took a deep breath, pushing herself up, swinging a leg over--

And promptly lost her balance.

Yang was used to mounting a horse with two arms, not just the one. Usually, her right arm kept her steady and even, but with only her left, she was wildly unprepared. She yelped, swinging her left arm in a desperate attempt to correct it, but it only propelled her further to the right. She toppled off the horse, landing on the ground with a _thud_. She groaned.

“Y’all right?” Taiyang asked, rushing over to help. Normally, he trusted his daughters to get up on their own after falling off a horse, but she supposed it was different now that she was down an arm. She brushed him off.

“I’m fine,” she said with a sigh, slapping the dirt off herself.

“D’you wanna stop?”

Yang looked back up at Bumblebee, look was watching her with one large brown eye. Yang scowled.

“Like hell,” she muttered.

She had better luck the second time around; she knew better what to expect. It was different, and for a moment, she just sat to gain her bearings. She would need to start slow, to get used to using the reins with one hand instead of two. This, too, would require a lot of practice to get right.

“All right,” she said grimly. “Let’s do this.”

Yang fell three more times that day, whenever Bumblebee turned too sharply. She landed hard, and once, she hit her stump, and her startled cry of pain had Taiyang racing to her.

“I’m _fine_,” she insisted, even though her eyes watered. She accepted his hand as he pulled her back up. “I just gotta get used to it.”

Her legs felt like jelly by the time Taiyang called it a day. She was out of shape, and she felt it. To think, she’d once been a cattle driver, who’d practically lived in the saddle. She held her hand out to Bumblebee, pressing her palm against her warm, velvety nose.

“I’ve missed you, girl,” she murmured. The horse huffed.

“It’s good to see you back in the saddle,” Taiyang told her, his blue eyes softening. “You looked like yourself again.”

Yang doubted that, but she didn’t want to take the wind out of his sails. Truthfully, she _had _missed the horses. Walking on Bumblebee had only whetted her appetite for riding, and she was looking forward to the day she could gallop across the prairie again.

If that was possible, anyway.

She wondered, briefly, how Ribbon was doing. Blake had been so good with her; she wouldn’t have neglected Ribbon the way Yang had neglected Bumblebee. Her hand still on Bumblebee’s nose, she drifted away, her heart blindly reaching out for her old horse, and for Blake. 

“Hello?” Taiyang said, a hint of worry in his voice. “You still here?”

“What?” Yang’s eyes refocused back to Bumblebee’s eyes. She drew her hand back, ashamed of her lapse. “Oh, yeah. I’m good.”

“Same time tomorrow?” her dad asked, his cheer sounding a little too forced to be natural. Yang nodded, her ponytail bobbing.

“Yeah.”

\--

Yang sat at her desk, frowning as she struggled to make the pencil do her bidding. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t replicate her old handwriting, and she still ended up smearing the pencil lead across the paper most of the time. At least it left less of a mess than ink.

She probably should have practiced her handwriting more often, but it was a frustrating process. Unlike her skill with riding, writing was just as difficult as it had always been.

Riding, at least, was getting better. She was adjusting to her new balance, and weeks of practice made her legs feel stronger. She was getting better at reining single-handedly, though she wasn’t as dextrous as she’d once been. She still didn’t dare to go too fast, but at least now, she could dare to hope that one day, she would gallop again.

Riding. It was the only time she could almost feel peaceful again.

There was a knock at the door, and Yang sighed, shoving the pencil away. She stretched her hand, knuckles cracking. “Yeah?”

Ruby stood there, an oddly eager look on her face.

“Guess what I just got!” she exclaimed, even before Yang could ask. So she shrugged, sighing.

“What?” she asked irritably.

Ruby hopped over to her, handing her a sheaf of thick paper. “Read this!” she said excitedly. “It’s from Weiss!”

Yang’s eyebrows shot up. “Weiss?”

“I wrote to her _ages_ ago,” Ruby explained. “In Atlas. I didn’t know if it’d even get to her, but I guess it did, in the end. I picked this up when I went into town today!”

It had been tightly folded, but she couldn’t hold it open with two hands anymore, so Yang shook it out. She felt a small flip-flop in her stomach as she read.

_Dear Ruby,_

_I apologize for the late response. Everything has been rather chaotic lately, and I’m afraid some of my mail got lost in the shuffle. It’s very difficult to receive mail here these days-- we no longer have a train that goes in and out of town-- so I’m very glad that your letter made it._

_I’m so relieved to hear that Yang is okay. When I heard what happened, I feared the worst. I was beside myself when news started trickling into Atlas. I had no idea what had become of everyone, and when I first started to hear the rumors that the Gunslinger had lost her arm, I didn’t want to believe it. I’m saddened to hear those rumors were true, but words can’t describe my relief that she is alive and well. I miss her dearly. Please give her my love._

_There is another reason, however, why I’m writing to you. In the turmoil following the destruction of Mantle, I’ve seized control of the Schnee Dust Company. The loss of the Mantle has caused us financial ruin, though I’m doing my best to salvage what I can. It may come as a surprise to you that the Mantle Mine is still in operation, and it is proving to be our most profitable asset. However, it is not strictly under my control. I now work _for_ the miners instead of working over them. All former indentured miners are now employees, and we’ve come to an agreement that those who work for the mine will also own shares in the company. Because of this, and their need for my connections in the Dust industry, I’ve returned to Mantle to assist them and to strengthen our relations with the new shareholders. _

_It is not the same city it once was. In fact, most citizens are refusing to call it “Mantle” at all, though a new name has not yet been decided. It’s run by a council of both Faunus and humans alike, and I’ve been asked to continue on as treasurer. At a recent meeting, we made amendments to city law, and we have realized that we are in dire need of lawmen, and a sheriff._

_I understand that it is a lot to ask, to have you return to the town. However, both you and Yang remain in the highest esteem to all the townsfolk. When putting in names for sheriff, Yang’s came up more than once. Even given her current situation, we would be overjoyed if she were to come back to us. Of course, we do understand if she does not wish to return, or if she is incapable of doing so. If that’s the case, however, I have the blessing of the council to offer you, Ruby, the position of sheriff for our little resurrected town._

_Even if you are unable, or do not wish, to take on this role, I do hope to see you again soon. Many of our friends are still in town, trying to rebuild lives for themselves. Jaune has rebuilt Crocea Mors, and it holds dances regularly. Pyrrha and I often attend, and I’m proud to say that I’m getting the hang of line dances._

_As for the other matter you asked about-- I’ve heard nothing from Blake, nor heard anything from the White Fang. I’m sorry to say that all has gone silent on that front, though the Faunus are still keeping their ears open for news. I hope that by the time you receive this letter, that maybe she’s even returned to you both. I can only imagine how hard it must be for Yang to be without her; when I was forced to return to Atlas, and thought Pyrrha had died… My anguish was unparalleled. My heart hurts for Yang’s sake. I’ve never been a religious woman, but I will pray to whatever gods are out there that she has returned to you all._

_I hope to see you soon, Ruby. I miss you, and Yang, so much._

_Love, Weiss_

Yang stared at the letter in her hands. Then, she read it again, trying to digest all of the information it held. Even the second time through, it was hard to picture it all. Weiss, in control of the SDC. Pyrrha, alive. Mantle, rebuilt. Faunus, working a mine that they now owned.

How had so much happened without her?

For the months she’d lived in Mantle, Yang and Blake had worked so hard, together, to bring about peace. And here it was, rising out of the ashes of a broken city. It probably wasn’t perfect-- no great change could have come about easily, and Weiss might have glossed over the stickier details-- but it was everything that they had wanted.

_Look at them, Blake_, she thought. _They did it._

“I’m gonna leave next week,” Ruby told her, a smile lighting up her face. “And I think you should come with me.”

“Why?” Yang frowned, staring down at the heavy parchment in her hands. The wax seal had been broken, but she could still make out the snowflake emblem that represented the Schnee Dust Company.

“Didn’t you read it?” Ruby asked impatiently, taking the letter back. “They want you to be sheriff again!”

“And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m useless,” Yang replied tiredly. She shrugged her right shoulder to indicate her stump. “I can’t shoot anymore.”

“You’ve still got one arm!”

“And how am I supposed to reload?” she demanded. “There’s no way in hell I’ll be able to fight like I used to. I can’t be anyone’s champion anymore, Ruby.”

“They don’t want you to be a _champion_,” Ruby snapped. It was rare for her to lose her temper, and Yang blinked in surprise. “The people in Mantle aren’t looking for a mayor, or a savior, or a champion. They want you because they know you support them. That you’re their _ally_.” She paused, expression softening. “They just want a _sheriff_.”

“And I can’t even do that.” Yang shook her head, blonde hair falling into her eyes. “If they appoint me as sheriff, it’ll be out of pity. They deserve… they deserve better than that.”

“At least come with me, then,” Ruby pleaded. “Please. It’d be good for you, to see Weiss and Pyrrha and everyone again.”

“No,” Yang said firmly. She pushed the chair out from the desk, standing up. “I don’t want them to see me like this. They remember me as a gunslinger… and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

Ruby’s eyes flashed again, angry. “Who do you think they are?” she asked, waving a hand in anger. “Some… idiots in a saloon, toastin’ your name, wantin’ you to demonstrate your shootin’ skills? They’re your _friends_, Yang, not your _fans_. They _care_ about you. Seeing that you’re alive… that’ll mean more to them than any gun show.”

Her words felt like a slap. “I never said--”

“They won’t _care_ if you’re missing an arm, or both arms, or even your damn _head_,” Ruby said spreading her arms widely. “They know you’re so much more than that. They want you to be _happy_, which you’ll never be if you hide here for the rest of your life. This isn’t the kind of life you’re meant to lead, Yang. You’d rot here.”

“Well, maybe I’m meant to.”

“Gods, Yang.” Ruby covered her eyes with her hand. “I’m not fightin’ about this anymore. Just… think about it. Even if it’s just for a visit, I think it’d do you some good to see ‘em.”

“I’ll think about it,” she finally conceded, sighing. Ruby gave her a sad, exasperated smile.

“Thank you,” she replied, each word packed with gratitude. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

\--

It gave Yang a lot to think about, to say the least.

Ruby didn’t broach the topic again, though Yang did ask to read the letter several more times over the next few days. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed Weiss’s neat handwriting; it had been just another thing that she’d taken for granted when she lived in Mantle. With the letter in her hand, though, Weiss felt so close, as if she were just down the road, waiting in her office for Yang to saunter by.

And she’d found Pyrrha. Somehow, they had gotten through the tragedy and found each other once again.

Yang tried to deny her aching jealousy. It had been months since she’d last seen Blake, leaving a void in her heart that couldn’t be filled. Maybe it would have been easier, if Blake had spoken to her first, to give her a reason, to talk about her feelings before she disappeared… but she hadn’t.

She’d just left.

“Blake,” she murmured out loud. She sat up in her bed, alone, staring out the window at the shattered moon. “Where are you?”

There was so much to consider. With Ruby leaving the next day, Yang was uncertain how things would be for her on Patch Ranch. Taiyang had suggested hiring a woman from town to help out around the house, who could help Yang with the things she couldn’t do on her own yet. She still struggled to put on a bra or to button her own pants; most days, Ruby still helped her with those tasks, though Yang had been putting more effort into learning how to do it. She still struggled to wash, to pull her hair up, to cut her own meat. She hated that she relied so much on her sister; it would be even more terrible to rely on a stranger.

Worse, she hated the idea of being alone. She still suffered from nightmares, and often, she asked Ruby to sleep with her at night to take the edge off. What would she do now, when she woke up in a panic? There would be no one there to comfort her, to reassure her. Though she knew it was weak, to depend on her sister for such a simple thing, nightmares were something she didn’t want to face alone again.

Yang would adapt-- she’d done nothing _but _adapt in time since Mantle fell, and she was doing better. But losing her sister, after losing everything else, would be too much.

Time on the road would give her a chance to adjust, at least. The journey to Mantle might be just what she needed to regain some of her lost independence. At the very least, it would give her more time with Ruby.

And maybe she did owe it to Weiss, and Pyrrha, and Jaune, and Ren, and Nora. They _had _been her friends. She owed it to them, to show them that she was all right. That they didn’t have to worry. She didn’t even have to stay for very long. She could escort Ruby to Mantle, and by then, she’d be ready to return to Patch. She could even hire someone to accompany her back, to help her with Bumblebee’s tack.

It wasn’t total independence, but it was close enough. It was as much as she was ever going to get, given her circumstances.

When Yang lay her head back into her pillows, her heart wasn’t necessarily _happy_, but there was a resolve there that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Making a decision, and doing _something_, was better than sulking around the ranch.

Besides, there was something in Mantle she needed to find.

\--

“Ruby!” Yang pounded on her sister’s door the next morning. She hadn’t yet gotten dressed; if she waited much longer, she might have talked herself out of her decision. Ruby opened the door anxiously, looking Yang up and down. She was already fully dressed; she had planned to head out early, to try to make it to the town of Vytal by nightfall.

“What’s wrong?” Ruby asked, forehead crinkling with concern.

“I could use your help,” she explained. There was a flutter in her chest-- excitement?

“With what?”

“Packing.”

For a minute, Ruby just stared, not comprehending. Then, her mouth dropped open in surprise, widening into a grin. “Really?! You decided to come?”

“I’m not sayin’ I’m gonna stay,” she warned, holding up a finger. “But I’ll come with you.”

“_Yes_!” Ruby squeaked, throwing her arms around Yang. In her happiness, she nearly lifted Yang clear off the floor. “You’re really comin’? Really?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yang said, the corners of her mouth twitching into an almost-smile. “Can’t let my little sister travel weeks and weeks on her own, can I?”

“Now it’ll be at least twenty percent less boring!” Ruby agreed, beaming. “Oh, I’m so excited!”

“I’m gonna need a lot of help,” Yang admitted, hating the truth of her words. “I can’t help much with saddlin’ Bumblebee up, or doin’ much with her tack at all. I’ll do what I can, but I’m still pretty useless.”

“Yang,” Ruby said patiently, taking her by the hand. She gave it a squeeze. “I love you. You’re never useless to me.”

For some reason, hearing her say that made Yang want to cry. She bit her lip, and nodded, holding the tears back.

Ruby walked Yang back to her room, practically bouncing beside her. “I’m so excited!” she repeated as Yang opened the door to the bedroom. “But, if you don’t mind me asking… what changed your mind?”

Yang strode to the desk, jerking open the drawer. She pulled out the gunbelt, and the empty gun that was still holstered there. She traced a fingernail along one of the engraved roses.

She was ready.

She slipped the gun out, twirling it around in her hand. The quick motion was still reflexive, coming back to her easily. She may have been a shadow of the gunslinger she once was, but her left hand still remembered its tricks.

“Well…” she said mildly, looking up. “I left somethin’ behind in Mantle. Somethin’ important. I’m not gonna go back to be sheriff, or a mayor, or a hero.”

For the briefest second, Yang’s eyes flashed red.

“I’m only goin’ back so I can find my fuckin’ gun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that I've split this fic into three separate acts-- I did that mostly for new readers, so that they'll hopefully feel a little less daunted by the length of this fic. It's going on a LOT longer than anticipated, so I hope that by dividing it up, it makes things a little easier to read and digest, so to speak.
> 
> Anyway, now I can explain myself! I really, really wanted to do a fic that followed canon a little more closely. Right when I first started planning Gunslinger, I knew there were certain things I wanted to make sure I did: I would kill off Penny and Pyrrha, lop off Yang's arm, and send Blake running. And for the most part, I did that... with one notable exception. Originally, I _did_ plan on killing Pyrrha, and the decision not to was probably the hardest writing decision I've made yet in any of my fics. There are even one or two hints in earlier chapters that I _was_ going to kill her. Then, I started thinking about it. I feared the "killing-the-gays" trope, even though I knew that Pyrrha's canon death might have excused that. I talked with SEVERAL people about this decision, including my sister sunnyteea, my betareader Aziminil, the infamous explosivesky, and a couple other friends. In the end... I just couldn't do it. I think I'd just started writing the beginnings of the Schneekos relationship when I realized: I'm not an ASSHOLE. Just let them be HAPPY and SOFT and IN LOVE. So in Gunslinger, Pyrrha gets to live... this time. It was a HARD decision, but I hope nobody regrets the choice I made!
> 
> Anyway... I'm going to attempt to get back on my schedule. Stay tuned...


	16. Chapter 16

Yang kept her hat pulled down over her face. In the past, being recognized on the streets of cities made her feel proud and powerful. People would point her out and whisper in awed, hushed tones. Children would run up to her, trying to wave her down, wanting a shred of recognition from their hero. With her wild blonde hair, the guns she wore openly on her hips, and her swagger, it was always obvious who she was. 

And here she was now, hiding from her own reputation.

She had no desire to be recognized in Atlas. She’d asked Ruby to tie her hair back in a loose braid, and she switched from her heavy gunbelt to a simpler holster. Ruby had even agreed to put away her red poncho, the distinctive garment which would have identified her as the Gunslinger’s sister. If they were anonymous, Yang reasoned, no one would try to talk to her about gunslinging, about Mantle, about _anything_.

“I’ll take the horses to the stable,” Ruby said as they came within sight of the inn. “If you don’t mind gettin’ our room?”

“Got it.” Yang gave a curt nod. Once she was in their room, she could breathe a sigh of relief.

In the week or so they’d been on the road, Yang had improved greatly. She'd gotten a lot better at getting on and off Bumblebee, and her body had strengthened from the long days spent in the saddle. She no longer felt ready to collapse at the end of the day. She was far from the muscular cattle driver she’d once been, but physically, she felt better than she had in months.

She kept her eyes lowered as she strode into the inn, not wanting to risk eye contact with anyone. For all her improvement, she wasn’t the Gunslinger anymore.

She never would be again.

When she entered the inn, shutting the door behind her, the innkeeper looked up. He glanced to the dangling sleeve, tied off below her stump. Then her face. Then, finally, to the gun on her hip. His eyes brightened, and Yang’s heart sank as she realized her attempt at anonymity had been fruitless. Her missing arm made it too easy for him to guess who she was, she supposed.

“Yang Xiao Long?” he asked excitedly, loudly enough for the two people sitting at a table to look up. Yang tried not to groan.

“Yeah,” she admitted. Determined to get to her room as soon as she could, she added quickly, “One room, please.”

“Of course!” he said, beaming. “How many nights?”

His dark eyes flickered back to Yang’s missing arm. Word of her wound had spread; when Ruby had stopped in Argus for antibiotics, rumors would have begun to circulate that the Gunslinger had lost an arm. Ruby hadn’t told anyone the full story, but Yang suspected imaginations had run wild. Now, with the eagerness in this man’s eyes, she suspected he was bursting to tell people about his newest visitor.

“Two,” she told him. She leaned in. “And I’d appreciate a little discretion, if y’don’t mind.”

For a second, the innkeeper looked a little deflated. He caught himself, and bobbed his head in acquiescence. “Of course!” he said breezily, bustling to a row of key hooks. “I must say, it is _wonderful_ to see you in Atlas again, and I am _honored_ by your patronage.”

Yang nodded, hoping her silence was enough of a hint for him to stop talking. It wasn’t.

“So, it’s true then,” he said in a hushed voice as he dropped the key in front of her. “About… your arm?”

Yang looked down at her sleeve, annoyed. “That I lost one? Yeah, I hadn’t even noticed.”

The man laughed nervously. “Oh, you know how the gossip goes… I can never tell if what they say is the truth or not!”

“Well, now you can.” Yang looked over her shoulder, hoping Ruby was there so they could head upstairs.

“Did you really do it for _her_?” the man asked, apparently too curious to resist one more question. Yang frowned, turning back to him.

“Do what?”

“How you… lost it.” His eyes darted back to her knotted sleeve. “They’re saying you did it to rescue your lover. The…” He lowered his voice. “The Faunus woman.”

Yang’s blood ran cold. “Who told you that?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but the door swung open.

“All set!” Ruby announced, bounding in, their bags swinging off her shoulders. “We got our room yet?”

“Yeah.” Yang snatched the key, then gave the man one more hard look. “Let’s go.”

She led Ruby up the stairs, frowning. Ruby had said that she hadn’t told anyone the circumstances surrounding Yang’s lost arm. She hadn’t even had the chance to tell their friends what had happened, and there was no way she would have told the story to strangers. Perhaps people had guessed, but that guess seemed too specific.

So how had the innkeeper known that Blake had been involved at all?

“Y’all right?” Ruby asked as she set their bags down. 

“Did you tell anyone about how I lost my arm?” she asked, still frowning. Ruby raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“The innkeeper… he knew that I lost my arm trying to help…” Why was it so hard to say her name? Yang swallowed. “Her.”

“He knew?” Ruby asked, surprised. “How?”

“I’d love to know myself.” Yang sat on the bed, considering. “Did anyone else know?”

“I don’t think _anyone _else knew about what exactly happened that night,” Ruby replied gently. “It was so confusing, and so much happened… Maybe someone else saw.”

“Maybe.” It _was_ possible, but Yang wasn’t convinced. She shook her head, then kicked her boots off. It was something to think about.

The next morning, Ruby set out early. They had come to Atlas with a purpose, and Ruby was eager to run her errands. She hadn’t visited a city since they’d returned to Patch, and Yang knew that being stuck in one place for so long must have been frustrating for a vagabond like Ruby.

Yang, however, stayed in bed. After long nights of sleeping on the road, it was nice to sleep in a real bed. Maybe before, she might have gone out with Ruby instead of sleeping in. She’d always loved cities. She used to enjoy going out, buying things, soaking in the praise that so many people offered her. Before she moved to Mantle, she would often give demonstrations in the cities. She had _wanted_ to be known.

Now, she just wanted to stay out of sight.

She would have been happier if they had skipped Atlas altogether. It was out of the way, but Ruby had insisted. In Atlas, they could replenish their supplies and buy more of the salve Yang used on her arm. The main reason for visiting, however, was for Pietro Polendina.

Penny’s father, Ruby had reminded her, was a doctor, and he sold medical supplies all across Remnant. If anyone knew of any tools to help a new amputee, it would be him. By finding the right tools, Yang might be able to achieve a little more independence.

But it was more than just tools. Ruby didn’t often speak of her own guilt regarding Penny's fate, but Yang knew her sister well enough to know that her death still haunted her. Ruby mourned in her own way, but tried to keep it tucked away where Yang couldn’t see. It made her heart hurt, that Ruby felt like she couldn’t talk to Yang about it, but at the same time, it was hard to think of anything she could do or say. It was hard enough work to keep herself afloat; she didn’t think she’d be able to comfort Ruby without falling apart herself. At least with meeting Pietro, Ruby might be able to find some closure.

Yang rolled over, dragging the pillow closer and nestling her face into it. Maybe she _should _have gone with Ruby to visit him, but it was too late for regrets now. Besides, she was comfortable. More importantly, she didn’t have to face people.

She stayed in bed for most of the day, sleeping on and off. There was no clock in the room to give her the time, so the only thing that marked its passage was the way the light shifted through the curtains. For a while, there was a gnawing hunger in her stomach. She ignored it, and eventually, even that discomfort lessened.

At some point, when the shadows began to lengthen, the door creaked open. Yang roused herself, sitting up to watch Ruby bound into the room. She dropped a couple bags on the floor, then looked up at Yang with a frown.

“You’re still in bed?” Ruby asked. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Yang waved her hand dismissively. “I just didn’t really wanna see anyone today.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Ruby replied, though she didn’t sound fully convinced.

“So, how was it?” Yang asked, as brightly as she could. Her interest seemed to mollify Ruby, who lit up.

“Oh, it was so nice!” Ruby twirled dramatically, throwing herself onto the bed next to Yang. “Pietro’s such a nice guy. I felt so bad at first, since…” Ruby paused, chewing the inside of her cheek, and then continued. “But he didn’t blame me. Not even a little.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Yang replied softly, setting a hand on Ruby’s knee. “‘Cause it wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah,” Ruby said, sighing. She leaned into Yang, her dark head resting on her sister’s shoulder. Not for the first time, Yang wished she had her arm back; this would have been one of the times Yang would have held her close, but Ruby was on the wrong side of her. Still, she brought up her good arm in an attempted hug. Ruby sniffled a little.

“He showed me the letters Penny’d written to him since she moved to Mantle,” she went on, not moving from where she leaned against Yang. “In that last one, she told him that I was teachin’ her how to use a sword. And… she said that I was prob’ly the best friend she’d ever had.”

“She was lucky to have you,” Yang murmured. “And you were lucky to have her.”

“I really was.” Ruby looked up at her with a sad smile. Her silver eyes shone. “Pietro told me she’d always been a little quirky, and that not many people really warmed up to her much. He said he was glad that we met. And he was right. It was better to have known her than it woulda been to not.”

Yang closed her eyes. It wasn’t Penny she saw in her mind’s eye, but Blake.

“Yeah,” she said, mouth dry. “It was.”

\--

Over dinner, Ruby pulled out a small journal. Yang sipped at her beer, pretending not to notice the stares she was getting from the other diners at the inn. She couldn’t tell how many of them knew who she was, but she figured that there weren’t many one-armed women in town.

“Pietro didn’t have anything for you in stock,” Ruby explained, flipping through the journal. “But he sketched out some things out, so I can make these tools for you myself.”

“Like what?”

“Like this one.” Ruby stopped on a page, then spun it to face Yang. “This one has a little loop. It goes through a buttonhole, then catches on a button. Then, you can pull it closed!”

Yang raised an eyebrow. It was a simple sketch, but it was enough to give Yang the idea. It was so simple, but could give her the ability to completely dress herself in the mornings. She nodded thoughtfully.

“Then, I can make a fork…” Ruby flipped to the next page, where there was a sketch of a fork. “If I give one side a beveled edge, it wouldn’t be as hard to cut up your food.”

“You’re gonna make me silverware?” Yang asked, surprised. 

“If I can make a sword, I’m pretty sure I can make a fork.”

Despite herself, Yang laughed. “I guess that’s fair.”

Ruby flipped through more pages, speaking more and more excitedly for possibilities, and ideas of her own. The more she spoke, Yang found herself enjoying the conversation. Once or twice, she even laughed.

Soon, she forgot about the stares completely.

After dinner, they stepped outside onto the dimly-lit street. It was good, to get some fresh air, and even under the street lamps, Yang felt less exposed than she would have during the day. She took a deep breath, inhaling the smoky smells of the city. The air in Atlas always had a slightly bitter odor, a byproduct of amount of Dust the city used. From the street lamps, to the Dust-powered cars, to the heating systems in many buildings, it was a town that relied on Dust. No wonder it had been the home of the Schnee Dust Company.

_Where were they getting their Dust now?_ Yang thought, but also found that she didn’t care. It wasn’t her problem. If the Schnee Dust Company had gone under, it wasn’t any of her business. Weiss was alive and safe, which was all that mattered. Outside of her friends, she didn’t have to care about anything beyond Patch Ranch. She would travel to Mantle, then return to the ranch, and never have to care about anything else again.

She had just begun to walk down the block when she felt someone watching her. Yang’s old gunslinger instincts never failed, and she came to an abrupt halt.

“Yang?” Ruby asked, confused.

“Someone’s watchin’ us,” she muttered. She whirled, spinning toward an alleyway. Someone stood there, watching her. Yang’s hands-- _hand_\-- twitched toward their-- _its_\-- holster. Yang gritted her teeth. Sometimes, it still felt like her hand was there, ready to be used. She could _feel_ her missing fingers spring to life, ready to draw a gun that was no longer there.

Ghosts. She was always followed by her ghosts.

“Who’s there?” she called. The person in the shadows backed up, spun around, and fled, but not before Yang caught a glimpse of a long, reptilian tail.

A Faunus. A _Faunus_ had been watching her.

Yang considered chasing, then decided against it. They hadn’t attacked her. They’d only been staring at her. She shook her head, her braid thumping against her shoulders.

“It’s nothin’,” she muttered.

“It was a Faunus,” Ruby remarked, surprised. “They were starin’ at you, Yang.”

Yang stared at the empty alleyway for a moment longer, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t quite pin a reason to.

“On second thought,” she said uncomfortably, “I think I’ll skip that walk tonight.”

Yang felt a sense of relief the next day, when they could finally leave.Her good cheer from the night before was gone; the Faunus watcher had unsettled her. Even as they rode through town, hooves clopping on the cobbles, Yang still had the uneasy feeling that someone was watching her.

Ruby, at least, seemed untroubled. She hummed to herself, oblivious to Yang’s unease.

“We’re gonna be in Argus before we know it!” she gushed, riding just ahead of Yang. “I hope the horses are gonna be all right. I mean, I’m sure they will be, but they haven’t been on a train before. They might get scared. Maybe I should camp out in their car with ‘em…”

“Ruby,” Yang sighed, trying to dismiss her paranoia. “You are not givin’ up your ticket to sleep with the animals.”

“I just get worried.”

“I know y’do.”

There was no way their tickets could have been cheap; while the tickets themselves wouldn’t have been too expensive, transporting horses was costly. Apparently, Ruby had saved all of her meager earnings from working for their father, putting a good chunk of it toward their autotrain fare.

It was so strange, to think about being on a budget. Back when Yang had been sheriff, she’d had all the money she’d needed. Now, she was little more than broke.

Yang’s eyes glazed over as they handed off their horses to be loaded onto a train car. Ruby watched them leave with anxious eyes, until Yang set a firm hand on her shoulder.

“They’ll be fine. It’s only for a few days,” she reassured her.

“Yeah…”

As they made their way to their train car, Yang paused. She felt stares again, and she whirled around. There, off to the side, lurking in the shadows, were a small group of Faunus.

It was a strange place to see Faunus; as they weren’t allowed to ride autotrains, they would have had no business in a train station. Though, the more Yang thought about it, she hadn’t seen very many Faunus at all since she’d been in Atlas. Blake had once explained that city Faunus didn’t mingle with humans, which might have explained the lack.

So seeing a group here, at the autotrain depot, was odd.

She caught the eye of one of them, a man with horns that curled around his ears. He held her gaze, then gave her a slow, respectful nod.

“C’mon, we gotta go!” Ruby said, tugging her hand.

Yang blinked, reluctantly turning from the watchful eyes of the Faunus. If they hadn’t been so pressed for time, maybe she would have approached them, to ask what their problem was. But already, they were turning around, leaving. They seemed to have gotten what they wanted.

Yang only wished she knew what it was.

\--

Mantle looked… different.

Yang kept the hat drawn low over her eyes, not wanting to risk be seen. Still, she peeked out from under the wide brim to get a view. Many of the buildings were newer, smaller, while a few of the older buildings stood, marred by scorchmarks and smoke stains. The train tracks still remained, and they had followed them as they rode from Argus to Mantle. The office building of the depot, however, was completely gone.

Yet for all its differences, Mantle _felt _the same. It left Yang with a heavy feeling in her heart. She’d walked with Blake down these dusty streets, kissed her in front of these very buildings. If she had felt haunted by her old self in Patch, she felt _suffocated _by the ghosts of her past here.

“Where’s Weiss livin’ now?” Yang asked quietly. Like in Atlas, and in Argus, Yang hadn’t wanted to risk recognition-- not yet, anyway. She kept her hair pulled back in a braid, though it had been days since Ruby had last braided it. Whisps of golden curls had escaped their confines, but since most of her hair was still restrained, she hoped that no one would think to identify her.

“Not sure… We’ll prob’ly have to ask someone.”

Yang resisted the urge to groan. Maybe she could hide somewhere while--

“Hey!” Ruby called out to someone down the street, waving her arm. Back in her red poncho, she _would_ be recognizable. “Can you tell me where I might find Weiss Schnee?”

“Ruby? Ruby Rose?” The voice of the approaching woman sounded pleasantly surprised, and it took Yang a moment to place the voice. When she did, her stomach lurched uncomfortably.

Of all people, why did it have to be Arslan Altan that Ruby flagged down?

Yang looked away, hoping her hat would be enough to disguise her. If she was lucky, her ex-lover wouldn’t think Yang to be more than a simple escort.

“The one and only!” Ruby said cheerfully.

“Weiss _did_ say she’d asked you to come back! As sheriff, right? Gods, I didn’t actually think you’d-- _Yang_?!”

Yang grimaced, and lifted her head up to face Arslan, who was staring at her with shock. “Arslan.”

She saw Arslan’s green eyes flicker to Yang’s tied-off sleeve, then soften in sympathy. Yang’s lips tightened. “It’s so good to see you,” Arslan said, voice crackling with disbelief. “I never thought--”

“Where’s Weiss?” Yang pressed, before Arslan got too caught up in her emotions.

Arslan seemed to come to herself. She blinked, then nodded. “She’s probably at home-- that’s where her office is. A couple blocks from Crocea Nova, near where the saddlery used to be.”

“Crocea Nova?” Ruby asked, raising an eyebrow. Arslan nodded.

“That’s what Jaune’s callin’ his saloon now,” she explained. She looked back to Yang. “Gods, Yang, it’s so good to have you back. Both of y’all, really, but I was so worried about you. When I heard about Blake--”

“I really gotta go,” Yang muttered, tugging at Bumblebee’s reins. She didn’t look back, not even when she heard Ruby stammer an apology behind her. She’d fled so quickly that Ruby had to work to catch up.

“You can’t just do that,” Ruby chided as they slowed, moving in the direction of the saloon. “She was _worried_, Yang. That was really rude.”

“Yeah, well.” Yang’s cheeks burned. “The fewer people I run into, the better.”

“You can’t hide from everyone,” Ruby replied quietly.

“I destroyed this town,” Yang said flatly. “I don’t wanna see anyone I don’t absolutely have to.”

“It’s not destroyed.” Ruby gestured around, to the buildings, and the people walking through the street. “Look at them. This town is _alive_.”

Yang said nothing. She only hardened her resolve, and continued on.

It was curious, to see the number of Faunus who walked the streets alongside the humans. When Schnee had run the mine, it was rare to see so many Faunus milling about town. So many of them had been forced into the mine, rarely having enough free time to walk through town. In a way, a part of her was satisfied.

_It’s real, Blake_, she thought, watching a human woman and a Faunus man chat outside the general store. _Mantle has become what you wanted it to be. I wish you were here to see it._

Yang stayed out of the way while Ruby asked more passersby to point out Weiss’s house, angling the right side of her body away from keep them from recognizing her. Even when they passed the saloon, Yang refused to look up at it 

“This way,” Ruby said, jerking her head to the other side of the street.

Weiss’s new house was much smaller than the manorhouse she’d lived in previously, and looked more haphazardly made than Schnee’s immaculate abode. Like most of the other buildings in the center of town, it had two stories, but it also looked like Weiss had hastily added another wing onto the first floor. It gave the house a messy, unfinished look that she would have never associated with someone like Weiss.

Yang gulped as Ruby knocked at the door, and a shiver of fear ran through her. She would have to come clean about her role in the destruction of Mantle. Weiss would be smart enough to understand that connection, and imagining her reaction struck an unnatural terror into Yang’s bones. She almost felt sick, but this was something she couldn’t hide.

At least then, Weiss wouldn’t want her to remain in town anyway. She could go home with a clear conscience. She took a deep breath as the door opened.

“May I help you?” a woman asked, her voice noticeably lower than Weiss’s. Yang’s eyes widened in surprise. She knew that voice, and she had to look up.

“_Winter_?” Ruby exclaimed, automatically standing up straighter, like Winter Schnee's mere presence demanded proper posture. “What’re _you _doin’ here?”

“Ruby?” Winter didn’t often look astonished, but her dark eyebrows shot up. “And _Yang_?”

“I thought you were in Vale!” Yang said, momentarily surprised out of her fear. They had both driven cattle with Weiss’s sister before, long ago, until Ironwood had promoted Winter to a cushy desk job in Vale. Seeing her here, in the desert, caught Yang completely off-guard. Winter gave her a single nod, a single perfectly-arranged strand of white hair bobbing with the motion. She stood so tall, hands clasped behind her back, as unflappable as ever.

“I _was_ in Vale,” she corrected. “But my sister needed me, and Master Ironwood understands that, for the time being, family takes precedence over his business. Which you both seem to understand, given the circumstances.”

She gave Yang’s empty sleeve a pointed look. Unlike Arslan’s empty gawking, Winter’s icy stare had a purpose behind it. Yang flushed.

“Not that it’s anything to be ashamed about,” Ruby said quickly, elbowing Yang in the side. Winter smiled politely.

“Of course not,” she replied. “Weiss would be the first to agree. You came to see her, correct?”

Yang’s nervousness had returned, cramping in her gut. She nodded, and Winter gestured for them to enter.

Unlike the heavily-decorated Schnee manor, Weiss’s new house was small and plain. It was no different than any other house in Mantle, and a lot homier than the manor had been. On any other occasion, Yang would have even felt at home here.

“The house is a little large for three people, but the size was handy when the town was still low on inhabitable houses,” Winter explained matter-of-factly. “For a while, there were several other people living here with us while houses were repaired and new ones built.”

“So why’d you keep the big one?” Ruby asked curiously, craning her neck to try looking upstairs.

“Weiss wanted an office, and a few guest rooms, should she need to host visiting Dust brokers.” Winter’s lips quirked with restrained amusement. “Then again, she also isn’t used to living in small spaces. I’m sure she is more comfortable with the larger size.”

“Well, it ain’t as big as the manor,” Ruby commented.

“Indeed.” Winter halted at a closed door, then gave it a sharp knock. “You have visitors, Weiss,” she announced.

“Come in!” a familiar, irritable voice called. Yang hardly noticed as Winter left them at the door, too focused on the anxious knot in her stomach. The worry, that Weiss would look on her with pity. The fear, of how Weiss would react to what Yang would tell her about her involvement with Sienna Khan. She was seized by the sudden desire to turn around, to run back to her horse, and to ride all the way back to Patch.

“Y’all right?” Ruby asked softly. 

“Yeah,” Yang replied, betrayed by the quiver in her voice. “Let’s do this.”

It had been such a routine thing to do, to visit Weiss in her office. When she had been sheriff, then mayor, it had been completely normal to saunter in like she owned the place, to take a seat in front of Weiss’s desk and make herself at home.

Now, Yang felt like a stranger. She kept a couple steps behind Ruby, looking over her shoulder cautiously to get her first look at Weiss.

Weiss stared at them across her desk, her eyes so wide that Yang watched as the monocle fell right out. Even her mouth dropped open slightly, and even now, Yang found her shock endearing. She looked the same as ever, her long white hair pulled up into a neat side ponytail. She might not have changed at all in the months they’d been apart.

“You’re here,” Weiss said in a small voice. Then, suddenly, she pushed her chair back and leapt to her feet. Before Yang’s slow brain could figure out what she was doing, Weiss had rounded the desk and thrown her arms around both her and Ruby, pulling them in close and burying her head between them.

“We are,” Ruby replied kindly, wrapping her own arms around both her and Yang, entangling them in a messy group hug. Yang brought her own arm up under Weiss’s shoulder awkwardly, and even though she had one less arm than either of them, she still _felt_ included. It made her feel all the worse for what she had to tell Weiss.

“You actually came!” Weiss said, voice close to a whimper.

“Of course we did!” Ruby squeezed them both. “You needed us, so we came!”

“Well--” Yang began, then caught herself. Not yet. She couldn’t tell Weiss _yet_ that she didn’t plan to stay.

“Gods,” Weiss muttered, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand and refitting her monocle. Yang hadn’t even realized she’d been crying. “I’ve missed you both. So much.”

“We’ve missed you, too,” Ruby replied, letting go. Weiss stepped back, looking both of them over. She paused on Yang, her eyes welling up again when she looked at her arm. She shook her head slowly.

“Yang…” she said softly. “Your arm.”

“I’m gettin’ used to it,” Yang replied defensively, scowling.

“I know, but…” Weiss bit her lip. She shook her head again, like she still couldn’t believe it. “Gods, Yang, I’ve been so worried about you. All of us have been.”

Yang shrugged, trying to keep herself detached from Weiss’s words. Fortunately, Ruby seemed too excited to let Yang’s depressing behavior hold her back. She flopped into one of Weiss’s chairs, grinning widely.

“So how’d all this happen?” she asked, gesturing around the office, but her meaning was clear. Weiss patted Yang’s shoulder one more time, then indicated to the other free chair for her to sit.

“A lot of headaches and heartaches, that’s how,” she sighed, sitting back in her seat. “I was dragged all the way back to Atlas without knowing what had happened to this place. To any of you.”

The image of Weiss, pounding on the window of the autotrain, was still a vivid one in Yang’s memory.

“Father was shot in the shoulder,” Weiss went on, taking a curt tone. “We picked up a doctor when we were in Argus, and while he was incapacitated, it was up to me to deal with the fallout.”

“And not Whitley?” Ruby asked, frowning.

“Father hadn’t _officially _transferred the inheritance to Whitley,” she clarified. “Not that it was to my advantage, at the time. All I wanted to do was return to Mantle, to figure out what had happened to everyone. I thought that Pyrrha…” Weiss’s voice broke, and she shook her head sharply. “But I couldn’t leave Atlas. Our stocks were plummeting, we had angry investors hounding our doorstep… and I was arguing with Father every day. But he wasn’t well, and even he knew that Whitley was unprepared to deal with the company at that time. So it was up to _me_ to deal with all of it, all while not knowing if anyone else made it out of Mantle alive.”

Weiss’s face hardened. “_Two months_. Two months of fighting my father, of watching my family’s legacy crumble around us, two months of _grieving_ for Pyrrha, for all of you. You were actually the first one I heard about, Yang.” She nodded at her. “I heard the rumors, that the Gunslinger…”

“Yeah.” Yang was aware of a burning sensation on her stump; maybe she needed to reapply the salve.

“Which I didn’t quite believe at first,” she continued. “I just assumed it was gossip. That is, until Pyrrha showed up.” At last, a small smile. “She told me that the Faunus in Mantle were continuing to mine, and that they were having difficulty trying to connect with Dust brokers. And, since the mine is _technically _under the ownership of the Schnee Dust Company, it only made sense that I assist them. With _many_ changes, of course.”

“And your dad just _let_ you?” Ruby asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Of course not.” Weiss’s smile was dark, baring teeth. “Fortunately for me, he very _clearly_ demonstrated, to many people, that he was no longer competent.”

“What’s that mean?” Yang was surprised by her own curiosity. She leaned back in her chair, studying Weiss.

“Father survived the shooting, but the wound continues to pain him,” Weiss replied, no trace of sympathy in her voice. “And the pain has made him very… short-tempered, particularly when he runs low on pain medication. That, and the fact that the stresses of the company only grew… he has lashed out at me, at Whitley, and at his business partners in very public, embarrassing ways. It wasn’t difficult to secure the support needed in order to force him into early retirement.”

Ruby grinned, and even Yang managed a ghost of a smile. “So what’s he doin’ now?”

“I’ve allowed him to remain in our family’s estate,” Weiss went on, primly lacing her fingers together on the desk. “However, I’ve made it very clear to him that if he displays any hostility toward me, my mother, my brother, and our staff, then I will-- pardon the phrase-- dump his ass on the streets without a lien in his pocket.”

“I think Pyrrha’s rubbin’ off on you,” Ruby remarked with a small giggle.

“Before you know it, she’ll be drawlin’,” Yang added, and Weiss’s cheeks turned pink.

“She might even start sayin’ _y’all_!”

“_Anyway_,” Weiss went on, staring daggers at Ruby, “I now run the Schnee Dust Company. I was forced to sell some of our other mines, to make up for our Mantle losses and the changes I’ve been implementing, but for the mines we’re keeping, I’ve completely overhauled the system. I’ve terminated the indenture contracts, and I’m offering miners wages, in addition to room and board. I’ve also made it so that any miner, human _or_ Faunus, has the option of owning shares in the company if they take a lower wage. It’s riskier for them, but the rewards may well be worth it. Already, the mine is back to its previous production level, and I’m hopeful that soon, we may be making profits again. I meet weekly with my shareholders and mining representatives, to make sure that their needs are being met. These people no longer work for me. _I _work for _them_.”

“That’s… incredible,” Ruby said, blinking. Weiss smiled sadly, and looked at Yang.

“I wanted to do right by the Faunus,” she said quietly. “I wanted to do right by _Blake_. The Schnee Dust Company has done terrible things to her people, and I know that what I’m doing now cannot possibly make up for the wrongs done to them. But I can’t stop to look back. All I can do is strive to improve, to keep moving forward. I will do whatever I can to work toward the world that Blake wanted. A place where humans and Faunus are on equal footing. A place we can all be happy to live in.”

A painful knot swelled in Yang’s throat, and she looked away. Her eyes were welling up, but she couldn’t let herself shed them.

“So, you and Pyrrha came back to Mantle,” Ruby said thoughtfully. “And Winter?”

“She made it to Atlas right after I seized the company,” Weiss said, nodding. “The three of us returned here together. She’s helped so much with the workload. Business is… very stressful, particularly on the administrative end. While things are improving for the Faunus, I’m still dealing with the fallout from many of our investors and brokers. They think I’m throwing money away, by ending the indentures and providing wages. But if there’s one thing that Winter’s good at, it’s standing her ground. She’s been invaluable.”

“And now you want us here, too,” Ruby added.

“Yes.” Weiss lit up. “Everyone here-- both human _and _Faunus-- have the utmost respect for both of you. Everyone will be happy, and relieved, to have you around. We haven’t had any further problems with the White Fang, but there are still some tensions between some human and Faunus groups within town, and it will be a load off the council’s shoulders to know we have a strong sheriff presence. Now, both of you can stay with us until we can get a house built-- we have extra bedrooms here, and--”

“I’m not stayin'.”

Weiss’s head snapped to Yang, eyebrows shooting up. “Pardon?”

“I’m not here to be a sheriff,” Yang said firmly. “I wanted to escort my sister here and see y’all. That’s it.”

A storm cloud moved across Weiss’s face, and Ruby shifted uncomfortably in your chair. “Why?” she demanded, getting right to the point.

“Look at me, Weiss.” Yang shrugged her stump, the sleeve dangling uselessly. “I can’t reload my guns with one hand. I ain’t a gunslinger anymore.”

“We don’t want a gunslinger,” Weiss replied, annoyed. “We want a _sheriff_.”

“And I can’t do it.”

They stared each other down, until Ruby cleared her throat.

“Um, if we’re stayin’ here, I gotta get the horses put away,” she said sheepishly. “Do y’all have a stable?”

“See?” Yang asked coldly. “I can’t even take care of my own horse. No way in hell could I be a sheriff.”

Weiss frowned, though she seemed a little less hostile as she turned to Ruby. “Of course. Ask Winter to show you to it. I need to have a few words with your sister.”

Ruby nodded, and Yang clenched her fist. Without Ruby to act as a buffer, Yang was almost afraid of Weiss. How would she react?

The door closed behind Ruby, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Yang narrowed her eyes, watching Weiss warily. Even after the destruction the White Fang had caused, even after dealing with the failings of the Schnee Dust Company, even after experiencing so much grief, Weiss still sat tall in her seat. Despite all the turmoil she’d been through, she had emerged stronger than ever. Yang couldn’t even come close to matching that strength. In comparison, Yang was weak.

“You’re not all right,” Weiss said softly.

“I’m as good as I can be.”

“You’re not.” Gods, she looked so _sad_. Yang held firm, casting her eyes down.

“It doesn’t matter, Weiss,” she said tiredly. “I’m done.”

“Talk to me, Yang,” Weiss replied. It was so odd, almost out of character, to hear her sound so gentle.

“I’m only gonna stay long enough to look for my gun,” Yang continued, pretending she hadn’t heard the request. “It got left behind when Ruby took me home, and I’d like to find it. Then, I’m gonna hire someone to go back to Patch with me, to help out with Bumblebee and whatnot, and--”

“Yang.” Weiss rose, rounding the desk in order to sit in Ruby’s vacated chair. She took Yang’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Look at me.”

Yang rolled her head up, meeting Weiss’s eyes. Her blue eyes were always so intent and calculating, like she was trying to read into the depths of Yang’s mind. Could those eyes see what Yang had done to Mantle?

“I fucked up, Weiss.” Yang’s voice cracked, and that knot was back in her throat, as thick as ever. “I really fucked up.”

“What do you mean?”

“After… after I was elected.” Yang could feel the tears pushing at her eyes again, and she squeezed them shut. “I met up with Sienna. In secret, to try and work out a deal to keep the White Fang from attacking us.”

It was probably for the best that she couldn’t see Weiss’s expression. Yang could only imagine the horror she must have had on her face.

“So we struck a deal. I pushed hard for it, and she still had her reservations… but she did it anyway. But, because she made a deal with a human, Adam had her killed. He left her head on our doorstep.”

“_What_?”

“Blake _told_ me I shoulda evacuated the town,” Yang continued. It was getting harder and harder to speak, her voice coming out raspy and choked. “She knew what he was capable of, but I was… I was too proud. Too foolish. Too… Weiss, I fucked up. It’s my fault that the White Fang attacked. I fucked up _hard_. People _died _‘cause of me. So many people. All because I didn’t...”

Gods, how had she once thought she was strong? How had she ever thought herself invincible?

She collapsed into herself, jerking her hand out of Weiss’s grip in order to cover her eyes as she sobbed. Her sobs were hard, painful, and Yang found herself gasping for breath as she tried to keep her tears behind her hand.

Weiss didn’t wait for even a second. She pulled Yang against her, holding her tightly as Yang shuddered. Her fingers curled around the back of Yang’s head, lightly stroking her hair. Yang pressed her forehead against Weiss’s shoulder, wishing she could ground herself, to find that sense of cool she’d tried so hard to adopt. The comfort Weiss was offering her was undeserved, and Yang hated herself for clinging to it.

“I’m so sorry,” Yang croaked between gasps. “It’s my fault everything happened to this town.”

“Oh, Yang,” Weiss murmured.

It felt like forever that she stayed in Weiss’s arms, riding the wave of her tears until they began to ebb. Her shaking became less violent, and the heaviness in her chest began to subside. Even when the tears began to dry up, neither of them let go, nor spoke.

Yang closed her eyes, trying to take deep breaths. Her nose was stuffed up from crying, but she could still smell Weiss’s vague scent of flowers and sea salt.

“I know it’s hard to do,” Weiss finally said, quietly, in to Yang’s hair. “But you can’t dwell on the past. Mantle-- or whatever we end up calling this town-- is moving on. We’re picking up our pieces. It’s what I’m doing with the company. For all the mistakes my father made-- the mistakes _I’ve_ made-- I can’t change any of it. It’s like I was saying before. All we can do now is fix what we did wrong, and keep moving forward.”

“I can’t move forward.” Yang’s voice was rough from her weeping and pure exhaustion. “I can’t be the gunslinger I used to be.”

“Then you find a new person to become,” Weiss replied. “You’re not dead, Yang. You can still be someone. You’ve never _stopped _being someone to me, or to Ruby, or to Blake.”

“I’m not anyone to _her_,” Yang muttered.

“You know that’s not true.”

“I don’t _care_.” Yang gritted her teeth, clenching them together hard before continuing. “She’s gone, and it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Weiss said nothing, and for some reason, that irritated Yang. She should have been trying to talk Yang out of her words, but instead… silence.

“If she _really_ cared,” Yang went on, spitefully, “she would have stayed. She would have _fought_. If there was one person who I thought woulda fought to stay with me… it woulda been her. But instead, she _left_. Do you know what it was like? To wake up, and find out that the person you _thought_ loved you had run away and left you to die?”

“She _does_ love you," Weiss said quietly. "And she didn’t leave you to die. She knew Ruby was taking care of you.”

“I still coulda died. I almost did.” Yang wasn’t sure when she’d started trembling again, but she noticed when Weiss began to rock her again. “I almost _wish_ I did.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” Weiss replied. “And I know Blake would say the same.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Yang tried to harden her heart, to cover up the way it ached. “She’s had months to come back. She’s gone.”

Weiss pulled back a little, forcing Yang to look into her eyes again.

“We’re here for you, Yang,” Weiss told her, pushing back some of the hair that had curled around Yang’s forehead. “You don’t have to be alone. We won’t make you stay, if that’s what you want. But I’m _so_ glad you came back.”

The words made Yang burst into a fresh round of tears. Weiss pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, then let Yang crumble against her once more.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured again, stroking Yang’s back. “I’ve got you.”

\--

Yang could almost _see_ Blake lying there, on the ground, a hand frantically pressed to her wounded hip. Adam had stood over her, his sword drawn, the red metal glinting in the firelight of a burning town. 

She saw herself fire her guns behind her, launching herself at Adam. She saw him turn, saw him smirk. She could hear Blake’s agonized scream, she could _feel_ her arm pull around to aim at Adam’s head.

Yang stared, and stared, and stared at the ground. Her stump burned.

“Yang? _Yang_?”

Ruby shook her, hard, and Yang finally awoke from her daze. She didn’t know how long Ruby might have been trying to get her attention, but it must have been long enough to make her sister panic.

“The gun woulda dropped around here somewhere,” she muttered, jerking out of Ruby’s grip. She was aware of Weiss’s eyes on her as she stepped forward, but Yang didn’t look back at either of them.

Months and months ago, this had been the spot where Yang had lost her arm, right beside the charred skeleton of the old church. This was the place where the Gunslinger had died. The last place she’d seen Blake. The area was cleaned up, the rubble cleared away. It was empty. And gods, it was full of ghosts.

Even the ghost of her arm was twitching spasmodically at her side. Yang wished she could reach that arm out, to flex it, to ease its twitching, but there was no way to relax muscles that no longer existed.

“It’s not here,” Yang said heavily, finally turning back to face the others. She pressed her hand against her stump, silently begging the ghost of her arm to leave her alone.

“I wasn’t here for the initial cleanup efforts,” Weiss told her apologetically. “We can ask around, to see if anyone might have found your gun. It's distinctive enough that there’s a good chance that whoever’s found it knows who it belonged to.”

“Or it got looted,” Yang replied, voice and expression stony. “The White Fang were lootin’ things that night.”

With her luck, it had probably been stolen, or sold to a pawn shop in one of the cities. Summer’s gun, entrusted to her… now gone.

“We’ll ask around!” Ruby said, her cheerfulness sounding forced. “If someone’s picked it up, it’s just a matter of figurin’ out who. And I bet, once people know you’re back in town, someone’ll bring it back to you.”

“Maybe,” Yang mumbled. It had been too much to hope for, that her gun would have been here. She should have known better than to hope at all. Hopefulness just wasn’t her friend these days.

She lagged behind after Weiss and Ruby, letting them catch up with each other, without the shadow of her mood looming over them. Yang felt a little better after a nap, though she still felt the shame of her breakdown. Weiss had been too kind to her. More kind than Yang had deserved.

It would be hard, maintaining the facade of cheer at the saloon. At least, Ruby had promised, Yang wouldn’t have to stay long. Just long enough to check in with their closest friends, and have a beer or two. Ruby had even promised that, should things get too overwhelming, she would help keep people away.

There would be no expectations.

Still, Yang felt a sense of nervousness as they approached the swinging doors. The last time Yang had seen this building, it had been aflame. Now, much of the building seemed new or restored. The sign now read, _Crocea Nova_. Yang looked up at it uncertainly.

Not that Ruby or Weiss gave her time to hesitate. They pushed through the doors, not even interrupting their conversation as they walked in. Not wanting to be left behind, Yang took a deep breath, then followed.

There had been chatter and laughter in the building, but a hush descended as people looked up and realized who had entered. Ruby was far from inconspicuous in her red poncho. She bounced on the balls of her feet, pulled her hat off, and gave her onlookers a wave.

Yang could almost _hear_ the gazes shift, the knocking of eyeballs as they darted to Yang. There were people she recognized in the crowd. Neptune, Scarlet, Sage. Robyn Hill, and her crew of lady archers. Humans and Faunus, mingling around the floor and sitting at tables.

And they were all looking at her.

Yang could _feel_ her face turning red. She shifted uncomfortably toward Ruby, as if she might block the stares. Did any of these people know to blame her for Mantle’s fate?

The silence was interrupted by a loud screech of excitement. Nora, apparently too impatient to go around, pushed herself up and over the bar, one leg nearly knocking someone’s tankard off the countertop. She landed gracelessly, but propelled herself forward, catching both Yang and Ruby around the neck in a violent hug.

“You’re _here_!” she squealed, and Ruby made a loud, gagging noise that prompted Nora to loosen her grip a little. “Weiss _said_ she was gonna write to y’all, but I didn’t really expect to see you! I mean, I thought that you woulda just gotten back to drivin’ cattle, or somethin’--”

“Nora,” Ren said warningly from behind the bar. “Let them have a drink first.”

“Oh, right.” Nora wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. I’m just so excited to see y’all again!”

“It’s so good to be back!” Ruby replied, beaming. Yang attempted a smile of her own.

The stares seemed to lessen a bit as they all took their seats at the bar. Ren wasted no time in filling up their mugs, and Yang accepted hers gratefully.

“We don’t have as much variety these days,” Ren explained as Yang took a long gulp, eager to get some alcohol into her system. “For the most part, it’s just the beer and Jaune’s moonshine. It’s costly, importing drinks from Argus.”

“I’d love a little moonshine,” Yang said.

“You got it,” Nora said cheerfully.

“On me!” a voice called from down the bar. Yang looked up, surprised, as Robyn gave her a nod. “And one for Rose, if she so pleases. It’s good to see y’all back.”

Yang flushed, but nodded and Ruby chirped out her thanks. She may not have deserved a free drink, but she wasn’t about to turn it down.

The moonshine was just as bad as she remembered, but Yang relished the burn as it slid down her throat. It had been a long time since she’d had anything quite so hard, and she grimaced reflexively. Even her tolerance for liquor had gotten weak.

Jaune and Pyrrha joined them a short time later, offering hugs and smiles. Yang looked away when Pyrrha leaned in to give Weiss a quick kiss. She should have been happy for them, but it was painful, to see love when Yang’s heart felt so empty. Once upon a time, she’d had love like that.

Not anymore.

She managed a fake smile when the conversation carried on, but she did her best to stay out of it, filling up her silences with booze. If she was drinking something, she reasoned, she wouldn’t have to answer any questions.

“We were so worried,” Ruby told Pyrrha, forehead crinkling. “I knew Jaune and everyone was gonna take care of you, but you were still out cold when we left town.”

“I got lucky,” Pyrrha said, chuckling. “I’ve got one helluva scar, but all told, it’s not too bad.”

“It got stuck in her chest,” Nora explained, jabbing a finger into her own sternum. “Just think, if it had gotten just a little bit to the side, it might’ve hit a lung, or her heart!”

“But it didn’t, and I was fine,” Pyrrha replied patiently. "Nothin' more'n a scar now." 

Her green eyes flickered over to Yang, who was pointedly taking another sip of Jaune’s moonshine. When she noticed Pyrrha looking at her, she smiled blandly. It was a lot easier to smile with a bit of a buzz. 

“You’re awfully quiet, Yang," she remarked. "How’re you dealin’ with things?”

“I’m adaptin’,” she said breezily. Ruby said nothing, though Weiss exchanged a glance with Pyrrha. “Really. I mean, it’s hard to get used to things, but you… I dunno. Get used to it?”

Ruby coughed, and Yang saw Weiss’s jaw tighten. They knew better-- of course they did-- but it didn't matter. She _acted_ fine, and that was all she needed to do.

She kept out of the conversation as much as she could. She mumbled a _congratulations_ at the news of Ren and Nora's engagement, and bobbed her head amiably when Jaune recounted how he got the saloon rebuilt. She didn’t even hear the suggestions when they discussed possibilities for Mantle’s new name. She just let her mind drift away, emotions numbed by beer and moonshine, only speaking when directly spoken to.

She should have felt shame as her words began to slur, but _damn_, it felt good to _forget_.

"Gods, I'm _sleepy_," Yang announced, interrupting an exchange between Ruby and Jaune.

Ruby looked at her, then did a double-take. "Wait, how much have you had?"

Yang smiled sloppily. With four alternating bartenders and Yang's quiet demeanor, nobody seemed to have noticed _just_ how drunk Yang had gotten. But Robyn and her friends had taken turns keeping her mug filled, and Yang felt slightly dizzy.

"Shit," Weiss muttered. She set a hand on Yang's shoulder. "I wasn't even thinking."

"'Sall right," Yang told her, her voice careening in pitch. "I'm good."

"No, you're not," Weiss said, exasperated.

"Stop tellin' me I'm _not_, 'cause I _am_." Yang gestured widely, nearly smacking Ruby. “I’m just _sleepy_.”

“Right.” Weiss looked back at Ruby, tight-lipped. “Then let’s go home.”

Yang staggered more than walked, with Ruby’s arm linked through hers and Weiss standing at her other side, as if she expected Yang to fall. Somehow, they were able to look almost casual as they left, and they got very few looks beyond the usual stares that Yang had come to expect.

When they got outside, Yang stopped abruptly as she looked back at the front of Crocea Nova. It had been about a year ago now, since she had run into Blake here, fearing that she would leave Mantle and return to the White Fang. They’d kissed in this very spot, in the light of the saloon’s windows.

It had felt so powerful, so _right_. She’d never felt lips fit so perfectly against her own.

She swallowed hard, suddenly burdened by flashes of memory. Walking Blake home that first time. Their first dance here. Flirting over the bar.

She fought the memories back, gripping Ruby’s arm tighter. “Let’s go,” she muttered, practically dragging them away.

\--

Yang woke up with a headache pounding behind her eyeballs. Her teeth felt fuzzy and her stump burned, but rolling out of bed to deal with any of it still felt too difficult. She pulled the blanket over her eyes.

She’d learned from Uncle Qrow that drinking was no way to solve problems; he’d been a raging alcoholic for decades, only finding sobriety in the past few years. It was because of him that her father refused to keep liquor in the house, and honestly, it was probably for the best. Yang knew she’d overindulged, and Ruby would probably have a few words to say about it. She’d never liked it when Qrow got drunk, and Yang expected no mercy.

There was a knock at the door, and she peeked an eye out to see Ruby enter. She didn’t look amused.

“It’s time for breakfast, Yang. And Weiss wanted me to tell you that you _will_ eat it.”

Yang grumbled, but forced herself to sit up. Ruby prattled on as Yang slowly dressed herself, about the people she’d caught up with in the saloon, about the local gossip, about her amazement with how much the town had rebuilt itself… but Yang only wished for silence. Ruby’s voice was particularly grating when Yang was nursing a hangover.

Weiss and Winter were already at the table when Ruby and Yang made it downstairs to the dining room. Winter had a newspaper open, and Weiss was cutting up an omelet.

“Good to see you up and about, Yang,” Winter remarked, not looking up from her paper. “You were quite rowdy when you all returned last night.”

Yang flushed, pulling out a chair and plopping into it. “Sorry if I woke you up,” she said tiredly.

“Just don’t make it a habit.”

“Good morning, Yang!” Pyrrha called from where she stood before the stovetop, wearing a simple white apron and her long red hair tied in a ponytail. She only looked up long enough to give Yang a smile. “How would you like your eggs?”

At least Yang wouldn’t be stuck eating cold eggs. “Scrambled, please. Thanks, Pyrrha.”

Yang was grateful for the silence as Pyrrha cooked. She was tempted to lay her head down on the table, but she had a feeling that the combined glares from both Schnee sisters would burn a hole through her skull.

“Just look at those sausages!” Ruby crowed delightedly as Pyrrha set a plate in front of her. Yang didn’t think she’d be able to eat the entirety of her own breakfast-- she still didn’t have much of an appetite-- but the thick slices of buttered toast, bright eggs, and thick sausages _did_ look good. Yang stabbed one of the sausage links with a fork and took a bite of it, not bothering with asking someone to cut it up.

“Weiss tells me that you plan on leaving soon,” Winter said, finally setting her paper down. She picked up her mug, but didn’t drink, instead peering at Yang over the top of it. Pyrrha sat beside Weiss, watching the interaction curiously.

Yang nodded, then swallowed her sausage. “Yeah. Just came here to look for my gun, but it’s not here, so I might as well get back to Patch. It’s not like I really _need_ a second gun anymore, anyway.”

“When were you planning to leave?” Weiss asked. All eyes were on Yang, who pretended not to notice the way they looked at her. She took another bite, pretending to consider.

“I was thinkin’ tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!” Weiss looked appalled. “But you only just got here!”

“And I don’t want to stick around, where I’ll have to deal with everyone.” Yang shook her head. “If Ruby happens to find the gun, she knows where to send it.”

“Why the rush?” Pyrrha asked. “Jaune’s birthday’s next week, and you know he’d love you to be there. Remember last year?”

Yang did. She smiled a little. Pyrrha and Ren had made a cake and a whole spread of Jaune’s favorite foods. Nora and Yang had gotten into a fierce arm-wrestling competition, refereed by the saloon's beautiful new server, Blake Belladonna. It had been a fun night, of drinks and laughter and good company.

“Yeah, Weiss said she was gonna actually decorate the saloon for it this year!” Ruby said excitedly. “She wants to use _tablecloths_. And _doilies_.”

“In a _saloon_?” Yang couldn’t help the way her smile started to spread. “Just _how_ does that even sound like a good idea?”

“It would bring the party together in a cohesive way,” Weiss replied crossly. “How many parties have _you_ organized, Yang?”

“You haven’t organized _parties_, sweetheart,” Yang pointed out. “You’ve organized _soirées_.”

Ruby snorted, and even Pyrrha chuckled. “Which is why she needs your help!” Ruby said, gesturing to Weiss. “If left to her own devices, I don’t think anyone’s gonna have _any _fun!”

“_Excuse_ me?”

Yang sighed, shaking her head fondly. “God, for all this shit you’ve fixed up around town, you’re just as hopeless as you’ve ever been.”

“I’ll have you know--”

“I’ll stick around for the party,” Yang said, setting her fork down to hold up one finger. “And _then_ I’ll leave. Just to make sure you don’t totally ruin Jaune’s party. He doesn’t deserve that.”

Weiss opened her mouth to argue, and then closed it. After all, she’d won.

“Thank you, Yang,” Pyrrha said, moving a hand to set on Weiss’s knee. “I know he’ll appreciate it.”

“We all will,” Ruby muttered. Weiss rolled her eyes, though Pyrrha laughed and even Winter smirked.

One more week. Yang gave Weiss a small smile. She could survive one more week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for me getting back on schedule~ You know how life goes!
> 
> This is an anti-thank you to Aziminil, my beta-reader. You know what you did.


	17. Chapter 17

“A little more to the right,” Yang said boredly, directing Nora and Ren with her hand. Nora glowered.

“Just ‘cause you’re missin’ an arm doesn’t mean you can’t help!” she complained.

“‘Scuse me, you’d have _me_ climbin’ on a _bar stool_?” Yang asked, scandalized, shrugging her stump and down to remind them of her limitations. Nora groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’ll have you know--” Yang began, but Nora cut her off.

“Yeah, yeah, your _balance_,” she muttered. Ren gave the banner a little slack, and Nora tugged it a little further in her direction. “Well, you don’t have to be so bossy.”

“If you quit whinin’, I wouldn’t have to be.”

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAUNE_, the banner read. Ren had written it in black paint, framing it with the yellow crescent symbols that had come to represent his saloon. They hung it above the bar, and it was Yang’s job to make sure that it wasn’t off-center or lopsided. 

At least planning a party had helped keep her busy. Winter and Weiss kept Yang to a strict schedule, refusing to allow her to stay in bed all day. At the same time, there was very little she could do in the house, and Yang didn’t like going out any more than necessary. She read books, eavesdropped on some of Weiss’s meetings, and planned.

The hardest part about party planning, she’d found, was writing things down. She scrawled a list of ideas she had and supplies she’d need, and she’d seen the way Weiss grimaced at her childish handwriting. Weiss understood, of course, but it did nothing to help Yang’s shame.

Crocea Nova was the only saloon left in town, and for a celebration like Jaune’s birthday, it was bound to be packed with people. There were snacks to prepare, music to organize. The piano had been lost in the fire, but there were still fiddlers and banjo players among the townsfolk. There could still be some dancing that night. Not that Yang would take part, of course. She couldn’t twirl a partner around on the dance floor like she used to.

“Pyrrha’s on her way with the cake!” Ruby announced when she pushed the swinging doors open. “It looks _really _good.”

“Good,” Yang said, relieved. She’d been worried about the cake. Without the autotrain, it was a hassle to get goods sent in from Argus, and supply wagons didn’t always come in on a consistent schedule. They’d nearly been out of sugar, and Yang had dreaded the thought of going door to door to ask people for some.

“She got a hold of some lemon peel, too, and the batter tasted _amazing_,” Ruby added, grinning.

“I hope you didn’t eat much of it.”

“So what if I did?”

The saloon was bright and alive with color by the time they finished decorating. When people started trickling in, Yang leaned against the bar, satisfied. It was certainly better than the doily-laden party that Weiss had wanted.

“It looks good,” a woman said cheerfully, nudging Yang in the side. “Might I buy you a drink for the trouble?”

“By all means,” Yang said, offering her a weak smile. She knew May Marigold by name, and knew that she ran with Robyn’s crowd, but hadn’t spoken with her much before. “You’re Henry’s cousin, right?”

“Unfortunately,” May sighed, flagging down one of the part-time Faunus barkeeps. “He went runnin’ home to mommy after everything that happened, but he was a prick. We’re better off without him here. A pint for me and the Gunslinger, please!”

“Don’t call me that,” Yang said, hackles rising. May gave her an odd look.

“Why not?”

“I don’t exactly take part in that kind of work anymore,” Yang said, taking on a detached tone as she took her mug.

“I’m sure you can still shoot,” May replied with a laugh that Yang might have found cute once. “You could shoot with both hands, right?”

“Yeah, but I can’t reload easy with just one.” She took a sip, aware all the while that May was watching her. “I, uh, gotta go find Ruby. But thanks for the drink.”

For what was supposed to be a fun party, Yang had a feeling that she was in for a long night.

She plastered a smile on her face as she joined in singing _Happy Birthday_, clapping her hand on her thigh as Jaune blew out the candles. She ate a small slice of cake, more out of obligation than actual desire to eat. It _was_ delicious, the thick white frosting rich atop the lemon-flavored cake. Pyrrha really was a good baker.

She watched the dancing for a while, her heart aching for the days when it had been she and Blake on the dance floor. Instead, she now watched new pairs mingle. Pyrrha towered over Weiss, who looked so dainty in Pyrrha’s well-muscled arms. Winter exchanged more than one dance with Robyn, who lead her firmly through the steps. Nora and Ren, Jaune and a number of ladies. Ruby danced with everyone she could, laughing all the while.

Yang, it seemed, was destined to stand alone.

Not that she didn’t get several offers. May returned with another mug and an offer to dance, which Yang accepted and declined respectively. Arslan, too, tried to get her on the dance floor, as did a couple other women from Robyn’s crew. More than one Faunus asked her to dance, which surprised Yang slightly. It had once been taboo for any Faunus to enter a saloon at all, let alone to ask a human to dance.

Oh, how the times had changed.

“You gotta have some fun, Yang!” Ruby told her during a break between songs. Ruby had worked up a sweat, perspiration glistening on her forehead. She wiped it on her bandana. “You can’t just mope around all night.”

“Why not?” Yang asked lazily. She was a little past tipsy-- various pretty women had spent the night shoving mugs and glasses into her hands, and Yang was never one to turn down a free drink. “I’m havin’ a good time just watchin’ y’all.”

Ruby giggled, cheeks flushed. She’d apparently had a bit to drink, as well. “You’re missin’ out, though.”

“I’m good,” Yang said. She swallowed the last sip of watery beer, then slammed the mug on the counter. “Dance like the devil, Ruby.”

Yang smiled for her sister’s benefit as Ruby vanished back onto the dance floor, pulling along a young Faunus girl. Sister out of sight, Yang sighed, letting her smile drop.

“She’s right, though,” Arslan commented, sidling up next to her. She pushed a small glass in Yang’s direction. “Ya gotta let loose a little.”

“I am,” Yang shrugged, accepting the moonshine. She knocked it back, the liquid burning all the way down her throat. “I planned this whole thing, didn’t I?”

“And you’re not even enjoyin’ it.” Arslan swallowed her own drink, setting the empty glass back onto the bartop neatly. “You ain’t dancin’, or tellin’ stories, or cussin’ up a storm like you did last year.”

“Things change, I’m afraid,” Yang replied, words coming out sloppy. Bitter regret laced them as she continued. “I had so much goin’ for me last year. Now, I’ve got _none_ of it.”

Maybe it was the alcohol that was loosening her tongue. She saw the sympathy in Arslan’s eyes before they flickered back over to the bartender, holding up two fingers.

“You’ve still got plenty,” she told Yang as the bartender refilled their glasses with more moonshine. “You’ve just gotta see it. You’ve been through so much, and hell if you aren’t braver than you were even just last year. You’re _strong_. I just wish you could see it.”

Yang snorted, then picked up her glass. “Whatever you say, Arslan.”

They drank, the alcohol going to Yang’s head in a thick, warm haze. She leaned back against the bar, resting her elbow on top of the counter.

“You’ve always been like this,” Arslan said with a sad shake of her head. “Whenever things got tough… for us, anyway… y’always just sorta… clammed up. Went off, to be by yourself. Refused to talk about it.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And it’s… sad.” Arslan stared into Yang’s eyes, and Yang was just drunk enough to meet them head-on. Her vision swam a little-- maybe that last shot had been too much. “You were different with Blake. You were… so close to having it, y’know?”

“Havin’ what?”

“Somethin’ good.” Arslan brushed a hand across Yang’s wrist. “But just ‘cause she’s gone don’t mean you need to lose that forever, y’know. You don’t need to keep punishin’ yourself like this. By bein’ alone.”

Even drunk, it was easy to see what Arslan was getting at. Yang frowned. It had been so long since she’d even considered the idea of sex. It was like the very notion had been killed inside of her. How was she supposed to feel anything for anyone who wasn’t Blake?

But Blake was gone-- she’d _been_ gone, for so long now-- and the alcohol made her bold. She tilted her head to the side, trying to organize her thoughts.

“Then maybe…” she said hesitantly, the booze making her words drag, “then I should try _not_ bein’ alone tonight.”

\--

Yang didn’t know how she got to Arslan’s house. She could only take note of the sensation of Arslan’s hand on her back, steering her away from the saloon and down the street. Yang couldn’t even remember if she’d told Ruby or Weiss where she was going, but she was too far gone to care.

Arslan pulled her inside, into a dark house and a dark bedroom. It all seemed so nondescript to Yang, so unrecognizable and anonymous. This was like sleeping with a stranger, she thought, somewhat sadly. How could this ever compare to what she’d had? It should have been Blake here. If she kept her eyes shut, maybe she could imagine it _was_ Blake.

She closed them, willing her body to respond to Arslan’s touch. She kissed Yang’s numb lips, and this didn’t feel right, either. No lips could feel as perfect as Blake’s had.

She didn’t open her eyes again until Arslan pulled away, relieved that their mouths no longer touched. However, she didn’t stop Arslan from pulling open her shirt, undoing in seconds the miserable buttons that had always been so frustrating to button in the mornings. Arslan paused for a moment as she evaluated the scarred mess of Yang’s stump, and in that moment, Yang felt blood race to her face in shame. 

And then Arslan pushed on, undressing herself, tossing her clothes to the floor haphazardly. She climbed into Yang’s lap, to kiss her again. She _was_ beautiful, but Yang felt dirty for even looking at her smooth, dark skin. This wasn’t Blake’s skin; it felt wrong. She looked away.

Arslan kissed along her neck, not noticing Yang’s discomfort. She pulled Yang’s shirt off the rest of the way and unlatched her bra, kissing her skin and murmuring what were probably supposed to be comforting words.

“Let me take care of you tonight,” Arslan said softly, working the buttons of Yang’s pants. “Is this all right?”

Yang’s mouth felt dry, and all of a sudden, she felt herself detach. None of this was right, and she couldn’t speak. She froze, unable to think or move or speak.

“Yang?” Arslan asked worriedly, pulling her hands away quickly. “Are y’all right?”

Yang blinked, and the world spun. She shouldn’t have come. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Arslan stepped back hastily. 

“It’s okay,” she replied, her white-blonde eyebrows furrowing in concern. “This was too much, too fast, I guess.”

Yang swallowed heavily as she reached around blindly for her clothes. Her hand shook as she worked her bra over her shoulders, not bothering with latching it. Arslan’s house wasn’t far from Weiss’s, and it would have been a hassle to get fully dressed for such a short walk.

“I’m sorry,” Yang muttered again. Her shirt was loose enough that it wasn’t too difficult to button, though her drunk fingers misaligned the buttonholes. Arslan reached a hand out to help her fix it, but Yang knocked it away. “Don’t touch me. I got this.”

“But your buttons--”

“It’s _fine_!” Yang snapped, wriggling her legs into her pants. Her pants were just tight enough that they were difficult to button with one hand. She didn’t have her button-tool with her, so she decided to leave it. She’d just have to walk carefully to make sure they wouldn’t fall down. “I’m goin’ home.”

“At least let me walk you--”

“No.”

The shadows of Arslan’s house swum before her vision. Yang staggered out of her bedroom, hardly able to locate the door in the darkness. She fumbled with the knob, ignoring Arslan’s pleading to at _least_ let her walk Yang home.

But Yang didn’t look back.

She stumbled into Weiss’s house, hopeful that everyone was still at the party, but as usual, reality was more disappointing. She grimaced, and swayed a little when Weiss rounded the corner toward the entryway, looking over Yang like she was assessing damage.

“What happened?” she asked, cutting right to the chase. Yang shrugged.

“Nothin’, actually,” she replied.

“It doesn’t look like nothing. You’re a mess, Yang.”

“Old news, darlin’.” Yang pushed past her, gripping the rail of the stairs to keep her balance. “I’m goin’ to bed.”

“Do you need some help?”

“Why does everyone think I need help?” Yang grumbled. Undressing would be even less work tonight, considering some of her clothes were already undone. Unfortunately, grabbing the railing meant that her pants were beginning to slip down, so she didn’t waste any more time before bumbling up the stairs.

She had just managed to pull her nightshirt on when the knock at her door came. Yang sighed, already half-expecting it.

“I’m good, Weiss,” she called, falling more than sitting onto her bed. “I’m home, safe and sound, in one piece-- actually, maybe not in one piece.” Yang devolved into unexpected, hysterical giggles. “I haven’t been one piece for a while now, eh?”

“I brought some water,” Weiss said, looking resigned as she strode in. She set the glass on Yang’s nightstand, then took a seat beside her. “You need to drink all of it before you go to sleep.”

Yang grabbed it and gulped it down, almost spitefully, as Weiss looked on. When she’d drained it, she set it back down, the glass balanced halfway off the nightstand. Weiss pushed it back, giving it a little more stability.

“Why aren’t you still at the party?” Yang asked gruffly, when it was clear Weiss wasn’t about to leave.

“I saw you leave with Arslan,” she replied. “I didn’t want to bother Ruby with it-- she was having such a good time-- but I was worried. So I came back, to see if you’d come home or not.”

“Sorry for ruinin’ your night.”

“I was about at my limit, anyway,” Weiss told her, smiling faintly. “Nora was getting everyone riled up over darts and I was worried I’d end up either dead or arrested before the party ended.”

“Sounds about right for Nora.” Yang closed her eyes. She might have been one of the people playing darts, back in the old days.

“Are you all right?” Weiss asked quietly. “I know you said you were, just now, but…”

“Not really,” Yang sighed. Drunkenness made it easier for the truth to bleed out of her. “I couldn’t… _do _anything with Arslan. I tried to, but it felt like…”

“You still love Blake.”

“Yeah.” Yang breathed out a long, jagged exhale. It hurt, to admit it. “I reckon I do.”

It was something that hurt too much to think about sober. That even through all the months apart, for all that she’d been left alone… she still loved Blake, and that love was more painful than something so simple as losing an arm ever could be.

“There’s no shame in that, Yang,” Weiss said, rubbing Yang’s back.

“Maybe not, but I feel like a… like an idiot.” Yang scowled as her tongue tripped over her words. Even with the water, she still felt a touch dizzy. “I only wish… I just, wish I knew for _sure_? Why she left. That she doesn’t… y’know. Love me, or somethin’. Then I could move _on_, but I _can’t_.”

“It takes time,” Weiss said kindly, but Yang shook her head and sent the room spinning again.

“I _know_ that. But… I’d never loved anyone like that. Not like I loved _her_. Did you know…?” She raised a finger, as if she could swirl up her thoughts around it. “I was always so used to it. People not bein’ there. So I drove cattle, and got _comfortable _with it. Bein’ by myself. I thought… I thought it was _best_. But after her… livin’ like that again is unburr-- umber--” With each misspoken word, Yang frowned harder, muscles tensing even more until she finally got the word right. “_Unbearable_.”

“I’m so sorry,” Weiss murmured. “It hurts a lot, to be separated from the one you love.”

“At least with… with Pyrrha, you didn’t have to worry about how she felt. You _knew_.”

“And that almost made it worse,” Weiss replied. She gave the smallest sigh. “I was considering leaving her back then, to secure a business alliance by marrying a stranger. Do you know how much I beat myself up? When I thought she’d died? That her last thoughts of me might have been that _I_ didn’t care about _her_?”

“But neither of you _chose_ to leave,” Yang muttered, looking away.

“Maybe Blake felt like she didn’t have a choice, either,” Weiss said. “Right from the beginning, she knew Adam was a threat. She was worried you were going to get hurt, that he would try to take revenge for leaving the Fang. Still, she stayed, and everything she feared… it happened. She nearly lost you for it. She nearly lost _everything_.”

“But that wasn’t even her fault!” Furious, drunken tears began to leak out of Yang’s eyes, and she wiped at them. “She shoulda known that. She _told _me I shoulda evacuated the town, and I didn’t. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. There’s nothin’ I can do about it now, but I’m _tryin’ _to move forward, like you said. That’s why I went home with Arslan. I’m tryin’ to put everything behind me.”

“And maybe running was Blake’s way of doing the same thing.”

“But she didn’t have to leave.” Yang closed her eyes and leaned forward, face in her hand. “What if I needed her here for me?”

“I know,” Weiss said softly. “I know, Yang. But… I don’t think it’ll be forever. I know she cared about us-- especially you-- so deeply. I’m holding out hope. That she’ll come back to us. In her own time.”

“I don’t have the energy to hope anymore.”

“I get that, too.” Weiss wrapped her arm around Yang, pulling her in and letting her lean against her shoulder. “I can’t say I blame you. So we can just take each day as it comes. With each other. I love you, Yang. You… and Blake, and Ruby… you’re like family. More family than the ones I left behind in Atlas. We’ll get through this, and we can hope. Even if you can’t, we’ll carry you through it. It’ll get better.”

Yang blew out a shaky exhale. “I hope so,” she said hoarsely. “Because I’m awful tired of feelin’ sad all the time.”

\--

Despite the raging headache she had the next day, despite the bad dreams that had left her exhausted, and despite the fact that she didn’t technically have any obligations anymore, Yang still roused herself in time for breakfast.

She came down the stairs quietly, and all conversation ended abruptly as she took her seat. She couldn’t meet anyone in the eye, and there was a strange tension in the air. She wasn’t sure if Weiss had told them what had happened the night before, but Yang suspected the silence was for another reason. 

The party was over now. Yang had no reason to remain in town anymore. She’d reminded them throughout the week that as soon as the party was over, she would head back to Patch.

She was free to leave, and to be alone again.

“How’re you feelin’, Yang?” Pyrrha asked. Of course it was Pyrrha who could break an awkward silence without sounding clumsy.

“I’m good,” Yang lied.

Silence fell again, filled only by the clinking of silverware on their plates. Yang didn’t reach for the bowl of scrambled eggs, or for any of the rolls. She stared at her plate.

“I’m gonna stay,” she said at last.

All the sounds of silverware stopped. She looked up, and found everyone staring at her with varying degrees of surprise.

“Really?” Ruby asked excitedly, a smile lighting her face.

“Really.”

“You’ve changed your mind?” Pyrrha’s own smile was delighted. The corner of Yang’s mouth twitched.

“Yeah.”

“You’re gonna be sheriff?” Ruby asked, practically bouncing in her seat. Yang shrugged.

“If y’all think I can still do it… then I’ll give it a try.”

Ruby launched herself from her seat to throw her arms around Yang. “Of course you can do it!”

“If we thought you couldn’t do it, we wouldn’t have asked,” Winter reminded her. Yang rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“It still might be smarter to go with Ruby,” she told them. “She can do more than I can.”

“But people would rather have you!” Ruby said with an emphatic squeeze. Yang made an exaggerated choking sound, and Ruby released her.

“So I’ll give it a try. No promises it’ll work out, but I’ll _try_.”

“Which is good enough for now,” Ruby replied, beaming.

“Any particular reason for the change of heart?” Winter asked, taking a sip of her coffee. Yang hesitated.

“Well…” She glanced at Weiss, who gave her a small smile. “It’s…. good, to be back with y’all. If I went back to Patch… it’d prob’ly be pretty lonely, compared to here.”

“Yeah!” Ruby nodded fervently in agreement.

“Besides,” Yang went on, a little gruffly to make her pronouncement seem less emotional. “I haven’t found my gun yet. It doesn’t feel right, leavin’ without givin’ this place a more thorough search.”

“Right,” Weiss said, clearly not buying the explanation as she went back to her meal. Still, she continued to smile. “Well, either way… I’m glad you changed your mind.”

\--

Yang surveyed the ground, picturing her house. The foundation was intact, but there was nothing left of the home she’d once shared with Blake. She had both hoped and dreaded that there was some lingering reminder of the time they’d spent together-- a trinket, a shred of cloth, a piece of jewelry-- but there was nothing.

It was like they’d never lived here at all.

She’d started making more of an effort to wander around town. She still didn’t feel like she was a good fit for the gold star on her breast, but both Ruby and Weiss had tried to reassure her, telling her it would feel normal again soon.

“I think a bunch of us hoped you’d come back,” the pig-nosed Faunus woman told her eagerly. “Nobody wanted to take your property, though we did get the lot cleared out. The foundation’s still sound, though, so we left that. Once our crew is done with our current project, we’ll get to work buildin’ your new house.”

“I don’t want you buildin’ nothin’ till I got the funds to pay for it,” Yang said sharply. “I’m not takin’ advantage of anyone’s generosity, Topaz.”

“You and Blake paved the way for our people to take this town back,” Topaz said with a dazzling smile. Not even her pig snout could detract from the beauty of her smile. “And the sacrifice you made for her… that was such a courageous thing to do. No human has ever done something like that for a Faunus before. We _want_ to build for you.”

Yang bristled. It seemed like everyone in town had heard some variation of the tale of how she’d lost her arm. Most of them seemed to believe that Yang had saved Blake’s life, though most of them also acknowledged that it had been Blake to get Yang away from Adam in the end. Two lovers had become two heros, a romantic legend.

If only that tale had a happy ending.

“I didn’t do nothin’,” Yang told her, though she knew her protestations would fall on deaf ears. They thought her modest. None of them believed that Yang’s charge at Adam had been impulsive and reckless, and it grated on her that they couldn’t see the truth. “I _will_ pay for this.”

“Then you can repay us in your own time,” Topaz told her, waving a dismissive hand. “But at least let us get the place built!”

Topaz prattled on for a little while longer, talking about specifics for Yang’s future house. It would be identical to the old one, with a second room for Ruby. The Schnee Dust Company would cover the cost of materials, and several of Topaz’s crew were offering to volunteer their time to build Yang’s home. It would be as good as new, and much cheaper than it had any right to be. 

The only difference between Yang’s first house and the new one was that there would be no air-cooling unit. It was too difficult, and expensive, to transport the components for one, but Topaz seemed hopeful that eventually, the autotrain would be up and running again in the near future.

“Give us time,” Topaz said cheerfully. “It’ll be just like the old days, only better!”

_The old days, only better,_ Yang thought as she left the site of her old home. She still wasn’t convinced it would be _better_, but it would be good enough. 

At least she could say the town itself was better. As Yang got used to walking down the streets again, the stares lessened, and the town almost felt like home again. The environment of the town itself was even lighter than before, more relaxed. It was more _welcoming _than Schnee’s Mantle had been.

People continued to dance around that word, _Mantle_. It became very clear, very quickly, that this was to be a _different_ town. On the occasions Yang had slipped and used the name _Mantle_, she was gently corrected. The word _Mantle_ represented oppression, cruelty, and racism. It represented indentures and punishment. _This _town would have a different name, a more freeing one. Names were constantly being put before the council, but Yang didn’t bother herself with suggesting any. Some days, she still struggled just to get out of bed.

It did feel good, though, to do something again. Being sheriff gave her purpose, and it was far less stressful than being a mayor. Not having to run a whole town was a huge burden off her shoulders. Politics had never been her strong suit, anyway. The role of a peacekeeper was a lot easier to manage.

Besides, being sheriff in this new town was much simpler than being sheriff in Schnee’s Mantle. The humans who had chosen to remain in town were willing to work with Faunus, and the Faunus were willing to work with humans. There were, of course, some in each race who weren’t totally satisfied with the social changes, but for the sake of the mine and their own prospects, they caused very little trouble.

It was easy work. Easier than she had expected it to be.

The town’s council set up a little sheriff’s office for her in a room that was connected to the schoolhouse. The walls were thin enough that during the day, she could hear sounds of children chattering. At times, it was irritating, but usually, Yang enjoyed hearing them. It made her feel less isolated.

Not that she was in her office much. There was little paperwork she could do with her left arm; after her first messy report, the council had agreed that she would dictate her reports to Winter, who would write them in her much neater handwriting.

A couple weeks after Yang had begun her work, she was dictating one such report when there was a knock at the door. Winter, seated at Yang’s desk, looked up.

“Come in,” she called, and Yang raised an eyebrow at her. Winter made a face. “Sorry. Old habits die hard.”

Yang chuckled, and the door swung open. Robyn entered, followed by a second woman Yang recognized as one of her archers, a sheep-eared Faunus named Fiona.

“Afternoon, Councilwoman,” Yang said, gesturing to the two chairs before her desk.

“Robyn, please.” Robyn rolled her eyes as she took a seat. “We’re past the formalities. You were our mayor, for godssake.”

“And I’m just sheriff now.”

“It’s prob’ly for the best.” Robyn wrinkled her nose. “The council is pretty tedious, and I recall you were never a fan of tedium.”

At this, Yang chuckled.

“Should I step out?” Winter asked, already starting to push her chair back. Robyn shook her head.

“Not necessarily. This ain’t personal,” she said with a shrug. “It’s about-- well, I’ll let Fiona here tell y’all about it.”

At Robyn’s nudge, Fiona sat up a little straighter. Yang looked down at her, frowning. 

“Now, none of this is anything I heard firsthand,” Fiona explained. “I’m a little too chummy with the humans for any of these folks to approach me directly, y’know?”

“Okay,” Yang said, shooting a quick glance at Winter. “What’s goin’ on?”

“It’s the White Fang.”

Yang’s heart sank a little, but she didn’t let it affect her expression or stance. She nodded once, urging Fiona to continue.

“The White Fang’s been sufferin’, over the past months,” she continued. “They’re kinda… splinterin’ a little. There’s the extreme ones, like the ones who destroyed Mantle all that time ago. But now there’s this, like… new faction. The ones who saw what Yang did, and are startin’ to see that not all humans are bad. That maybe there _are_ other options.”

“But how do people know what happened, anyway?” Yang demanded. She had never figured out the source of who had leaked the story, of how everyone seemed to _know_ the circumstances behind her lost arm. Ruby had sworn that she hadn’t even told their friends before she left, and Yang certainly hadn’t been able to. The only other people who would have known were Adam… and Blake.

Fiona shook her head, bewildered. “I dunno. It’s just what people were sayin’.”

“So what does that have to do with us?” Winter asked, steering them back to the topic at hand.

“It means that the Fang is gettin’ more desperate,” Robyn replied. “They’re tryin’ to keep a hold of the Faunus they have, tryin’ to demonize humans even more.”

“The ones in town-- we can’t prove they’re sympathizers, but we can make a guess-- have been tryin’ to stir up trouble. To create a divide between humans and Faunus,” Fiona added. “They ain’t havin’ much luck, but it might be somethin’ to keep an eye on.”

“So what?” Yang asked. “If they ain’t doin’ anything, what’s it matter?”

“There are… some rumors,” Fiona said haltingly. “That the leadership is callin’ for an attack. On our town.”

“Why?” Yang asked, staring. “The Faunus are _happy_ here. Why would the White Fang want to attack somewhere _happy_?”

“We’ve been wondering if maybe it had anythin’ to do with… you.” Fiona gestured widely at Yang. “You comin’ back here wasn’t exactly quiet news. If the whole Fang knows you’re back… you _know_ the High Leader woulda known you’re back, as well. And he hasn’t exactly been quiet about his… hate for you.”

Yang’s blood ran cold, and for a minute, her mind broke away. All she could think of was red metal, fires, blood…

“Yang?” Winter said quietly, and Yang snapped back to attention. She blinked rapidly, trying to bring the room back into focus.

“And what would be the point of him comin’ for me?” she asked, a little too lightly, her expressions a little too serene. “He already took my arm. He took my gunslingin’ away from me. He took…”

She couldn’t say her name. She cleared her throat before she continued.

“What I _mean_… is why come back at all?” Yang brought her hand up in defeat. “What else could he _possibly_ take?”

The silence was deafening. Yang shifted uncomfortably as Winter, Robyn, and Fiona exchanged glances, looking anywhere but at _her_.

“He doesn’t seem much like a… reasonable man,” Robyn said delicately. “But say you’ve got a point. That he’s done with you. Well, there are other things that he might want to sacrifice for the sake of the cause. Other people.”

“Meaning?”

“The Fang, as a whole, still has a pretty big grudge against the Schnee Dust Company,” Fiona said slowly, and Yang understood.

“Oh, fuck,” she groaned, slumping back against the wall while Winter stiffened her her chair.

“It could mean nothin’,” Fiona continued, “but it might mean y’all’ll wanna prepare for a worst-case scenario. Fortunately, not many of the Faunus in town want anything to happen to either you _or_ Weiss, but if the Fang sets their sights here… it wouldn’t be pretty.”

“Fuck,” Yang repeated, quite calmly.

“It was the Faunus miners who asked for Miss Schnee to return in the first place,” Robyn pointed out. “They knew she used to work with Yang, and trusted her to help ‘em sort out the Dust situation. Taurus is gonna have a problem turnin’ _all_ the Faunus against her, but there was still some loud opposition to bringin’ her back in the first place. He may try to build on that.”

“You really think he might attack?” Yang asked, already feeling the answer in her bones. Fiona nodded slowly.

“He’s worried about losin’ the Fang to the more peaceful faction,” she replied. “With the things I’ve heard, I wouldn’t put it past him to strike town for some kind of, like… show of power, or something.”

“Power,” Yang echoed.

Of course, it was all about power to someone like Adam Taurus. The very first time Yang had seen him, he had only wanted to demonstrate his power. He’d caused chaos and revealed Blake’s secret, showing them all that he still had control. He hadn’t wanted to conquer the town that day.

He’d simply wanted to show them all who was calling the shots.

But, no, it wasn’t just power, Yang knew. It had been for vengeance, as much as power, that he’d played his hand the way he did. He had wanted Blake to suffer, to pay the price for leaving him.

With Adam, it would always come down to power and vengeance.

“He’ll prob’ly want Weiss dead,” Yang said, her tone as calm as ever. Winter didn’t move a muscle. “And we _know_ he wants me dead, too.”

“Like Robyn said, most of the Faunus here are on both y’alls side,” Fiona told her quickly. “It’s just a few outliers that are tryin’ to cause trouble. But still… it’s somethin’ to think about.”

“And I will,” Yang replied. She forced a smile. “Really. I’ll see what I can do. The Fang ain’t a threat to take lightly, especially when my friends are involved. Thank you, Fiona. Robyn.”

“You’re welcome, Yang,” Fiona said warmly. She hesitated. “Personally… I’m glad to see you with that sheriff star again. Our town hasn’t been the same without you.”

“Thanks,” she replied, keeping her smile on until Fiona shook her hand and departed. When she was gone, Yang blew out a breath and slid into the newly-vacated chair. Robyn clapped her on the back.

“You’re doin’ good,” she said, and Yang let out a short laugh.

“I don’t believe it for a minute, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“If Weiss is in danger, we should probably discuss how to protect her,” Winter said, skipping the niceties.

“We’ll keep her safe,” Yang told her reassuringly. “We’ve got most of the Faunus on our side. We’ll be fine… but we’ll also prepare. Do either of y’all have any ideas?”

“My only idea is to fight back,” Robyn replied, pushing her chair back to stand up. “Which means, I oughta get back to drillin’ my team. If you’ll excuse me?”

“Robyn--” Winter began, then cut herself off when Robyn raised a pale eyebrow. “I-- thank you. For bringing this to our attention.”

Robyn’s face softened. Then, Yang could see her violet eyes twinkle with sudden mischief.

“Hm.” The corner of Robyn’s mouth curled in a smirk. “Y’know, Yang and I go way back, which is the reason I told her to skip the formalities. But for you… I think I like hearin’ you call me _councilwoman_.”

It was only through sheer force of will that Yang managed to hold back a snort. Winter flushed.

“I… Excuse me?”

“Of course, it _is_ a mouthful…” Robyn conceded. Her smirk widened. “I’d accept a _sir_ from you.”

With the smallest wink, she turned on her heel, leaving a spluttering Winter in her wake. Yang, unable to hold back her laughter anymore, could only cover her mouth to muffle it.

Laughter like this was so rare these days, but by the gods, did it feel good.

“Of all the _nerve_,” Winter muttered, pulling her report back toward her.

“She likes you,” Yang said, a smirk of her own ghosting across her face.

“As if I’d stoop low enough for someone as insufferable as _that_.”

“If anyone’s stoopin’, it’d definitely be her,” Yang told her seriously. Winter’s jaw dropped in outrage, before Yang chuckled and continued. “I mean, no offense, Winter, but you’re, at best, her shoulder height.”

“Yang,” Winter warned her. “You might be down an arm now, but it won’t stop me from taking you around the back and kicking your ass like the old days.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your memory problems in your old age,” Yang replied dryly. “But I’ll remind you that you never _once_ kicked my ass.”

Winter opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. She rolled her eyes.

“Well, I’m glad to see you didn’t _completely_ lose your sense of humor,” she remarked. And then, strangely enough, a smile. “Even if that _was_ weak.”

“Bite me, Schnee.”

\--

“We gotta have a plan in place,” Yang explained to the council. Robyn had already briefed them on what Fiona had heard, but it was Yang’s job as sheriff to protect the well-being of the town in the event of an attack. Even if the possibility of an attack was low, Yang had learned her lesson the first time around.

She wouldn’t ignore even the barest hint of warning about a White Fang attack.

“And what do you propose?” the moth-winged Faunus councilman asked. He still spoke with a trace of Menagerian accent; he had been fairly new to his indenture when the White Fang had destroyed Mantle. But Bogg was an honorable man, and had a good head for organization.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that the Fang won’t attack the Faunus,” Yang said. “I don’t think even Adam could convince them to burn buildings or shoot at the crowd if they see the Faunus majority here.”

“Agreed,” one of the Faunus women said. “My boy knows some folks with the Fang, and that’s been one of the big concerns.”

“You’ve got an in with the Fang?” Yang asked, sitting up straighter.

“He’s not a part of it, if that’s what you’re askin’,” she replied defensively. “He just hears things sometimes, is all.”

Yang forced herself to relax. She didn’t want to push them too hard; the last thing she wanted to do was antagonize the new leaders of this town. “Apologies, ma’am. I didn’t mean it that way.” She hesitated. “The… idea of an attack has me a bit on edge.”

And there was the sympathy again, softening the woman’s features, and Yang resisted the urge to cringe at it.

“Oh, of course!”

“So in the event of an attack, we’d need to keep the humans out of sight as best we can,” Robyn said, bringing them back to the topic at hand. “Why not just fight them right off?”

“The Faunus aren’t our enemy,” Bogg said firmly. “They are misguided. For all they know, we’ve been manipulated into staying here.” Weiss opened her mouth to argue, but Bogg raised a hand to silence her. “_We_ know, Miss Schnee. _We _were the ones who called for your, and Yang’s, return. But Taurus is a master of manipulation. We all saw what happened with Lionheart.”

Yang frowned. “What… happened to Lionheart?”

For the first time that meeting, Bogg looked uncomfortable, and some of the other Faunus council members shifted awkwardly in their seats. “The White Fang. That’s what happened,” he said with a sigh.

“We found out after the attack that he’d been feedin’ information to the Fang,” another person added bitterly. “Taurus had… convinced him that the council was ineffective. That there was no choice but to attack the town. That there was no other way to free the Faunus. That it was Lionheart’s only shot at freedom, to betray y’all.”

Yang stared. Only now did she remember that Lionheart hadn’t been at that last council meeting. That he had sent her away in the first place. Had it all been a ploy, to leave the town unprotected while the White Fang attacked Mantle? She suddenly felt slightly nauseous. If only she had tried harder to talk to him, to hear his concerns--

“So he’s manipulatin’ the Faunus. So what?” Robyn demanded. “If they’re gonna attack our people, we’re within our rights to fight back.”

“We need to give them a chance to change their minds,” Bogg said firmly. “When they come into town and see the streets filled with Faunus, they won’t attack. Then, we can try to open up a dialogue while you humans lay low.”

“We’ll need to make sure we hide Weiss,” Yang said, jutting her chin in Weiss’s direction. “If they catch a glimpse of her, Adam’ll kill her on the spot. We gotta make sure she’s safe, or it could mean problems for the miners. We can't risk her.”

“Same could be same about you, sheriff.” Bogg nodded at her. Yang shook her head.

“I ain’t gonna hide,” she replied bluntly. “You picked me as sheriff. It’s my job to protect this town.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Weiss snapped.

“He _expects_ me to hide,” Yang shot back. “He expects me to _cower_. But I ain’t gonna cower. Not for him. He don’t control me. Not anymore.”

Too long had she spent hiding. This would be her chance to prove her strength.

“If I can lure Adam close enough, make him think I’m scared…” She smiled, baring teeth. “I can get a shot at him, sword or no.”

“You’re gonna try to kill him?” one of the Faunus council members asked, surprised. She had feathers on her arms, and they fluffed up in apprehension.

“Yeah.” Yang nodded her head once, sharply. “We won’t fight the other Faunus unless they make us. But I know enough about Adam to know that he _won’t_ stop for peace. He was responsible for the massacre of a whole autotrain, and damn near a whole town. Blake…” Yang cleared her throat. It was so hard, to say the name. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d said it out loud. “Blake knew he was dangerous. She left the White Fang ‘cause of him. She always believed in peace, but peace was never on his agenda.

“And now...” She paused, looking each member of the council square in the eye. “I’ve got a personal score to settle with him, too. If you’ll let me… I’ll kill the bastard.”

The Faunus members of the council all exchanged looks. Robyn nodded, looking pleased, while Weiss stared daggers at Yang.

“It’s a stupid idea,” she said. Yang shrugged.

“He can’t be trusted,” Bogg agreed slowly. “Is it true he killed Sienna Khan?”

“He left her head on my front step,” she replied flatly. He frowned, considering.

“I believe… in peace,” he said at last. “And I also believe that with this Taurus in charge, we will never achieve that.”

“Agreed,” a couple of the other Faunus said.

“If an attack _does_ happen… well, sheriff…” Bogg nodded. “You’ve got my blessing to take him down.”

There was a murmur of assent among the rest of the council. Yang leaned back in her chair, pointedly ignoring Weiss’s glare. She was done with hiding. She was done being weak. She stoked the confidence within her.

It was time for her to soar.

\--

“You’re going to get yourself _killed_,” Weiss continued to complain as Ruby reloaded Yang’s gun. For too long, Yang had been neglecting her shooting practices. In the event of an attack, Yang needed to be prepared.

“Only if I let him,” she replied, taking her newly-loaded gun. If only she still had her old one, she might have carried them both on her left hip. That would have given her more ammo to shoot with. Unfortunately, no amount of searching had turned up her gun. It was lost, and she had to accept that. She supposed she could always get a new revolver, but filed that idea away for later.

“He still has his sword,” Weiss reminded them.

“And if I can get close enough, I can shoot him at point-blank range. All I gotta do is act cowed,” Yang replied.

She fired at her target patiently, warming herself up. The gun felt good, and warm, in her hand. She shot her bulls-eye with familiar ease.

“I should really practice reloadin’ on my own, too,” Yang admitted, handing the gun back to Ruby. “I haven’t exactly given it my best shot.” She grinned. “Pun not intended.”

“And I bet I could come up with somethin’ that could help,” Ruby told her. “Somethin’ that could fit the chambers, so you could just reload them all at once.”

“Sounds smart.”

“Are you even _listening_ to me?” Weiss demanded, frustration making her loud. “He might not even give you a chance to get close enough to shoot! He’ll just kill you on the spot!”

“Your optimism is really reassurin’.” Yang slid her gun into its holster, preparing to practice her quick-draws. “But I’ll be fine. The Fang won’t fight the Faunus, I’ll act weak, Adam’ll wanna gloat, and then I can kill him. Bam, we win.”

She accentuated her statement with quick-draw, hitting an easy bulls-eye. Weiss sighed.

“This is all assuming he’ll attack you himself,” she pointed out. “He could just as easily overpower you with a bunch of his cronies.”

Yang nodded, mulling the thought over as she emptied her rounds into her target. Maybe she’d have Ruby set up some tin cans to shoot at.

“I thought of that,” she said when she finished. “But I don’t think he will. From what I’ve seen, he’s gotta flair for the dramatic. I wouldn’t put it past him to try to get me one-on-one, with an audience. You saw how he made sure he had everyone’s attention when he tried to kill your dad, Weiss. He’s gonna wanna do the same for me.”

“He might even try to make it into a real showdown,” Ruby said, eyes widening in dismay.

“Doubt it.” Yang shrugged, handing her the gun. “He knows I’m good, and fast. He’ll want his sword handy when he tries to take me down.”

“Those are a lot of _ifs_, Yang,” Weiss protested. Yang shook her head.

“I know it ain’t perfect, but it’s all that we got. It should at least buy you enough time to get outta sight.”

“You’ll get yourself killed.”

“I’ll try not to.”

Yang spoke as emotionlessly as she could, though she expected that Ruby and Weiss knew the truth of it. Preparing for Adam’s possible return had made her nightmares worse than usual. Most nights, she was unable to fall asleep until the early morning hours, and when she finally did, her dreams were riddled with fire and shadows. She’d started sleeping with Ruby again, desperate for the small comfort her sister could provide. She knew Ruby had spoken to Weiss about it, but she was grateful that neither of them said anything now.

With any luck, she could put an end to her nightmares for good. She took her reloaded gun back from Ruby and fixed her aim on her target.

If she could kill Adam, maybe she could sleep again.

\--

_Ring-ring-ring_. Pause. _Ring-ring-ring_.

That was the signal, and Yang was prepared. She’d had a couple of weeks to steel herself, but it didn’t stop the sinking feeling in her gut. On its own accord, her arm began to shake, so she lifted it to her face to bite her wrist, hoping the shock of pain would be enough to stop the shakes. She couldn’t afford to waste time by acknowledging any nervousness.

She needed to maintain her composure for what was about to happen.

The teeth marks left deep indents on her skin, but at least her arm had stopped its shaking. She rose slowly, allowing herself to take her time in leaving her office.

In the room next door, the clamor of children fell silent, and Yang knew Glynda Goodwitch was rounding up the children into a protective huddle. Somewhere, Yang knew that Weiss was making her way to one of their planned hiding places. Hopefully, what Yang was about to do would buy Weiss even more time to keep herself hidden.

She took a deep breath, then exhaled. Her gun was loaded, and her shaking had stopped.

She was ready.

She strode out of the building, taking in the riders on horseback. They all wore masks, but like Yang predicted, they weren’t fighting. They rode slowly through the streets, looking around. Many of them began to dismount, muttering among themselves, like they weren’t sure what to do. It wasn’t the loud whooping and hollering that they’d made on their previous attacks, none of the animal noises.

There were few, if any, humans on the streets to perform for. The only people in sight were Faunus.

Yang slunk down the street, intent on finding Adam before he found her. She ducked into the growing crowd of Faunus townsfolk, keeping her hat lowered over her face. Fortunately, there were enough confused townsfolk that if she kept her body turned away from any passing members of the White Fang, she could stay hidden.

At least it didn’t take long to find him.

Yang’s arm began to shake again as she looked toward the gallows. Adam was mounted on his black horse, surveying the gathered Faunus, his mask hiding whatever expression he might have worn. He had his hand on his sword, prepared to draw. He spoke in a low voice to a couple masked Faunus nearby, gesturing up at the gibbet.

It was now or never. Yang took a deep breath, then pushed through the gathered people.

“Adam Taurus,” she called, stepping forward. Her arm crooked back, fingers itching toward her gun.

Adam’s head snapped up, zeroing in on Yang. He smiled.

At her call, all of the White Fang members in the vicinity swung toward her, drawing their guns and training them on her. However, Adam raised an arm, and they all lowered their weapons once more.

“_Sheriff_,” he called mockingly. “So, it’s true. I didn’t think you had the guts to come back here.”

Yang didn’t draw her gun as he leapt off his horse. She had to wait for the right moment.

He squared off against her, swiftly bringing his hand back to his sword, testing her, watching to see if she’d cower. Yang didn’t budge.

“I thought you were done with this town, Taurus,” she said. She couldn’t come off too strong, but she also couldn’t come off as too weak. She had to be a sheriff who wanted to protect her town, but a sheriff who was also terribly afraid.

Which, in the end, wasn’t too far from the truth. Her arm hadn’t stopped shaking.

“Of course I’m not _done_,” he replied easily. He angled his sheath, and drew his sword out a few inches. There was that disturbing red metal. He kept the blade drawn just a little, his insurance against gunfire as he brought a hand up to gesture at Yang. “You’re still here, aren’t you? You and that Schnee bitch.”

A few masked people nearest to him chuckled. Turning a Faunus slur on a human seemed to be peak humor. 

“We don’t wanna fight y’all,” Yang said. “I’m back because the people _asked_ me to come back. Same with Weiss.”

“I have a hard time believing that my people would _ask_ to be oppressed again.” He took a step forward, and Yang tensed.

All eyes were on them. 

“They ain’t _oppressed_,” Yang said.

“Liar.”

“You just don’t wanna accept the truth,” Yang continued, emboldened. She took a step forward of her own. “You wanna be Mantle’s _savior_. You wanna be their _god_. Well, tell me, _god_. What were you plannin’ on doin’ when they didn’t _need_ you?”

His smile faded.

“They _do_,” he said lowly, stepping slowly closer. “I’m here to teach them that they don’t need _you_. This is exactly what you’ve always wanted them to think, that they can’t exist without masters. You humans are all the same, taking advantage of _my _people. That ends today.”

Yang’s legs moved almost on their own accord, making her own slow approach toward Adam. All around them, no one dared make a sound.

“Y’know,” he said, quiet enough for only Yang to hear. “I’m glad you came back.” He looked his head to gaze at the sleeve tied off below Yang’s stump. “Maybe now I can finish what I started.”

Yang narrowed her eyes.

“Who’d you impress with that?” she asked. “The Faunus here _like _me. You ain’t doin’ any of them favors by cuttin’ off my arms, or legs, or even killin’ me. You’ll make ‘em hate you.”

“They’ll see I’m right, in the end. Besides…” His jaw twitched, making him look slightly insane, and Yang unconsciously braced one foot behind herself. He noticed the movement, and his mouth curled into a smirk. “I will take _great pleasure_ in destroying you.”

He leaned forward, and Yang prepared herself for a lunge, a blow. He was so _close_. If she could time it right, get right next to him, to swing her gun to his head--

She gasped, jerking automatically as a lasso looped around her. The crowd of townspeople began to cry out in protest, but the White Fang had raised their weapons, poised to strike anyone who dared push past.

Yang thrashed, but whoever was holding her tightened their hold on the rope. Yang reached for her gun, but she couldn’t quite get a grasp of the grip. Wildly, she looked over her shoulder, and saw the lasso wasn’t a real rope at all: a masked Faunus stood at her back, long ropes shooting out her hands. A spider Faunus?

He _had _planned on ganging up on her, just like Weiss had warned her. He’d tricked her. The realization dawned cold in her blood. He had never planned to give her a chance to get close enough to shoot.

“Take her gun,” Adam ordered, giving a nod to another nearby masked Faunus. Yang felt her stomach drop. This woman had black _cat ears_.

But no, it wasn’t Blake. Those weren’t Blake’s ears. They were taller, wider, and pierced with gold earrings.

The woman said nothing as she approached Yang. She reached for Yang’s gun, hesitated, then looked back toward the crowd.

“_Now_,” Adam snapped, and the woman jerked the gun out of its holster and clutched it close to her chest. She darted back toward Adam, but his focus was fixed on Yang.

“Make sure to tie her arm up tight,” Adam told the spider Faunus. “Can’t have her getting loose.”

“Why’re you doin’ this?” someone in the crowd demanded. One of the townsfolk.

“She hasn’t done anything to us!” another person called.

“Let her go!”

“We _want_ her here!”

“Enough!” Adam yelled, jamming his sword securely back into its sheath and drawing out a long pistol. The crowd fell silent as he aimed it at a small child who’d worked his way to the front of the crowd, presumably for a better view. His green eyes went wide.

He was threatening a _Faunus_ child.

“This _bitch_ has _killed_ our kind!” Adam reminded them, never lowering his gun. “And here you are, _defending_ her.” He shook his head slowly. “You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

No one dared speak.

Adam stepped closer to Yang, studying her. Though she couldn’t see his eyes behind the mask, Yang knew they would have been cold and hard.

“Fuck you,” she growled. Then, she spat in his face.

Promptly, he backhanded her, hard enough to knock her into the dirt. Yang tasted grit and blood, but she couldn’t wipe it away. Her bonds were too tight.

“Take her to the gallows,” he said coldly. “Make her swing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR BETA-ING, AZIMINIL... where would I be without you...?


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Violence in the beginning, but I tried to keep it from being too excessive.

At Adam’s words, Yang swung her legs around, managing to hook the front of her boots around his ankles. She pulled hard, sending him sprawling into the dirt as she rolled. The force of her roll tugged hard at the rope around her, and she heard the spider Faunus gasp in surprise as she was yanked into Yang. With a satisfied grunt, she aimed a kick at the woman’s head, the heel of her boot connecting hard.

“You _bitch_!” Adam cursed, grabbing the back of Yang’s ropes and holding her fast. She wriggled, but he was strong enough to slam her down and pin her to the ground.

She didn't even see his fist coming. She gasped out in shock and pain as it punched her face, once, twice, three times. There was more blood in her mouth, and it dripped from her nose, but Yang couldn’t even free her hand to stem the flow.

“Get her up,” Adam ordered, breathless as he rose. He looked down at her, and Yang was aware of other masked faces surrounding her in a loose circle, looking slightly blurry in her darkening vision. There would be no escape now.

She wasn’t prepared for the kick he sent into her stomach. She curled into herself automatically, gasping for air. He kicked again and again until Yang felt like she couldn’t breathe. The voices of her townsfolk were calling out, pleading with Adam to stop, but Adam was a man who did things on his own terms.

But he did stop, eventually, leaving a battered Yang on the ground as he gestured widely at the crowd.

“She’s no different than Schnee!” he yelled, his voice gravelly with his passion. “She sat by and did nothing while your brothers and sisters were branded! She _hung_ people who’d done nothing wrong! She’s always lived at Schnee’s beck and call, his _lapdog_. Well, no more.”

He gave her one more kick, and Yang could do nothing more than groan. She was sure he’d broken something.

“Get her boots off,” he told one of his men. “That way, if she kicks again, it won’t knock anyone out. How’s Trifa?”

Yang felt someone tugging her boots off as Adam spoke with another of his underlings. Her consciousness went fuzzy for a moment, until someone hauled her up. She cried out, the pain in her ribs and stomach almost knocking her out. The dirt beneath her feet was hot and rocky, uncomfortable even with socks to cushion her.

Someone was binding her again, with thick, coarse rope with bristles that scratched through Yang’s shirt, even tighter than the spider Faunus’s smooth, webby rope. Yang sucked in a painful inhale as her captor gave it one last tightening tug.

“Trifa went easy on you,” the antlered Faunus growled at her, nodding at the unconscious spider Faunus that someone else was dragging away. “_I_ won’t make that mistake, _bitch_.”

Two people flanked her, practically dragging her toward the gallows steps. Yang’s stomach hurt too much for her to even kick, let alone fight back. Her feet knocked against the wooden steps as they pulled her upwards, each step jarring her busted ribs.

On the platform, Yang stared out blearily over the crowd, as she’d so often done when she’d been the executioner. At least there was no fighting among the crowd. She didn’t want any of her people to die.

Maybe with her own death, she thought distantly, it would mean everyone else would get to live.

“How does it feel, Xiao Long?” Adam taunted as his followers set her over the trapdoor. “To be the one who hangs this time?”

Yang said nothing as someone conjured up a noose. Had they made it beforehand? Had they planned this?

It seemed almost funny to her, almost laughable. Just a few months ago, Yang had wondered what it might be like, to hang herself from the rafters back at Patch Ranch. She’d decided soon afterward that she didn’t want to die.

Oh, the irony.

“I _said_,” Adam murmured, grabbing her arm and squeezing hard. “How does it _feel_?”

If it hadn’t been for the ropes holding it in place, Yang might have thought that Adam would have snapped her remaining arm clear off. If this was the force he’d used on Blake so long ago, it was no wonder she had ended up so bruised. She turned her head slowly, hopefully meeting the eyes beneath his mask.

“Fuck you,” she said through gritted teeth. His lips tightened, and he released her. He nodded to one of his men, and they threw a burlap sack over her head.

“This woman-- this _gunslinger_,” Adam said loudly, for the gathered crowd of her Faunus townsfolk, “is responsible for the death of _so many_ of our people, both with her direct and indirect actions. The humans think she’s done _good_, pitying us, the poor Faunus who are trod beneath their _boots_.”

There was a pause, a muted gasp in the crowd, and then a small smattering of laughter as something apparently amused the gathered Fang. Yang couldn't see what it might have been, though, based on the emphasis of the word, she assumed it might have been her boots.

“And to them, we give them an example, that _we will not be swayed_!”

There were only a few cheers. Yang felt the noose slip over her head, and tighten hard, the bristles poking into her neck. Her gasp came out choked.

“She didn’t do anything!” someone screamed from below. “Let her go!”

“You can’t do this!”

“She’s _good_!”

Yang’s arm began to shake against its binding rope. The resolve she’d felt back at Patch-- that she didn’t want to die, that she wanted to _live_\-- flared up in her, but there was nothing to do with a noose around her neck.

She _was_ going to die.

Gods, she hoped Weiss and Ruby were safely hidden away.

“She’s _not_!” Adam yelled. “She served the Schnees, and has taken advantage of our people!”

“She’s been _helpin'_ us!”

“That’s a _lie_!” he screamed, his voice growing more and more unhinged. “We’ll kill the _famous gunslinger_, and the _world _will know to _never_ cross the Faunus _again_!”

Yang turned her head in the direction of his voice, but it was starting to be drowned out by the protests of the townsfolk. People were screaming at him, condemning him, arguing up at them.

He'd doomed himself, Yang though with detached satisfaction. He’d tried to turn the town against her, but he was only turning them against _himself_.

“Pull the lever!” he demanded over the din, and before she realized what he said, the trapdoor opened, and Yang dropped.

It all happened so quickly that Yang didn't comprehend what had happened until after the fact.

At the same moment she fell through the trapdoor and felt the hard, choking jerk at her neck, there were four loud gunshots. There was a hard force on the rope, four painful, rapid shots against her noose, and then she fell, hitting the ground hard.

She nearly passed out then, the pain in her ribs almost overwhelming her. Vaguely, she heard the screams of the townsfolk and some shouted commands she didn’t quite understand. The only thing she _could_ understand was her own pain, her harsh coughing, and someone’s soft hands on her, helping her turn over.

“Are you okay?” a woman asked, pulling the noose over Yang’s head and yanking the sack off.

Wide golden eyes stared down at her. Yang blinked, her brain too slow to make sense of what was going on.

“Blake?” she asked stupidly, but no, she was wrong again. This woman was too old to be Blake, and her cat ears bore gold earrings.

She had just seen those ears.

“No, Kali,” the woman said kindly, cutting away at Yang’s bindings. “We have to get you out of here.”

“You took my gun,” Yang mumbled. Kali nodded, pulling the ropes away. With the ropes gone, her chest could expand again, and it hurt to breathe. She gasped, and Kali’s ears perked up in worry.

_So much like Blake’s_, Yang thought.

“I’ve still got it,” Kali reassured her with fierce calm. She wrapped an arm around Yang, hoisting her up. “Are you okay?”

Just as easily as the chaos had risen around her, something made all fall silent. Yang didn’t have a chance to see what it was; intense pain radiated down her torso as Kali pulled Yang’s arm over her shoulder. She began to lead Yang behind the gallows, guiding her away.

“I’m--” Yang began, but ground to a halt, eyes wide at the voice she heard.

“Brothers of the White Fang!” a clear voice rang out from above her. “For too long, you have been blinded by hate and deceit. So much so that you are choosing to ignore the voices of the many in favor of one madman!”

“Blake,” Yang murmured. Her knees buckled, and she fell against Kali.

“We need to get you out of here,” Kali told her firmly. But Yang couldn’t bring herself to move.

She’d spent months, wishing to hear this voice again. Unbidden, tears welled up in her eyes.

“Yang?” Kali asked worriedly.

“I’m not leaving,” Yang said resolutely, looking up at the platform. Blake stood against the sun, back to her, gesturing to the crowd of townsfolk. Her long black hair shone down her back. Instead of her old skirts, she wore pants, cutting her silhouette sharply against the sky. “Not leaving. Not…”

She drew in a slow inhale, leaning more of her weight against Kali as she felt herself lose strength. She closed her eyes, then crumpled.

\--

Someone was holding her hand.

Yang’s eyes cracked open slowly. Her lids felt so heavy and swollen. She was laying in her bed, and all of her ached.

And then she remembered why.

Without thinking, she pushed herself up, groaning with pain as she doubled over. The person at her side had been dozing, suddenly jumping awake at the tug of Yang’s hand.

“Yang?!” Blake said, eyes going wide.

All Yang could do was stare.

“How badly does it hurt?” Blake asked anxiously, squeezing Yang’s hand more tightly as she looked her up and down. Her grip was almost _too_ tight; she might not have even realized she was doing it. 

Yang opened her mouth, then closed it again. Then, she spoke.

“Fuck,” was all she could manage.

Just saying the word hurt, and Yang pulled her hand away to clutch at her stomach. Blake leaped to her feet, ears erect and alert.

“I’ve got that bruise stuff,” she said hurriedly, pulling open the drawer of Yang’s nightstand. “You’re gonna need it.”

Yang looked down at herself, dismayed at her nudity, but even more dismayed at the array of color on her skin. She looked like she’d been run down by a herd of cattle.

“I managed to shoot you down, but I couldn’t stop him from beating on you,” Blake said, sounding disgusted with herself as she unscrewed the cap. “He was threatening to shoot the townsfolk, and couldn’t risk it… But _gods_. I didn’t think he’d be _this_ bad.”

“I can do it,” Yang told her, reaching for the jar, but the motion tugged painfully at her abdomen. She gripped the jar hard, her fingers brushing Blake’s.

“Can you?” Blake asked, giving her a forced smile. Yang stared at her, hard.

“How… why…?” she began, but stopped. She let go of the jar, conceding to Blake’s ministrations. “What are you doing here?” she asked at last, watching Blake unscrew the cap.

Blake paused, then set it on the nightstand. Now, Yang could see the bags under her eyes, the haunted shadows of her cheekbones. She’d lost weight.

“One of our informants let us know that Adam was planning on returning here,” Blake replied softly, scooping the balm onto her fingertips. “Lay back.”

Yang obliged, wincing at the strain on her muscles. A part of her was furious-- Blake had been gone for so long, and now she was acting like everything was the _same_, and how could she do that?!-- but she still longed for Blake’s touch, however painful it would feel on both her sore body and hurt memories.

“Your informants?” Yang asked woozily as Blake massaged the balm onto her bruises. Blake nodded once, a nervous bob of the head.

“It’s… a bit of a long story,” she said hesitantly. “And… well, I’d rather you be a little more awake when I tell it, so I don’t have to repeat anything.”

Yang sighed slowly. The balm took a bit of the edge off, but it provided no relief for broken bones. She closed her eyes, still feeling so very tired.

“I will say that Adam’s group outnumbered us by quite a bit-- it would’ve been hard to sneak too many of us into his group without arousing suspicion-- but it helped, knowing most of the town was probably going to be on our side. But it meant we couldn’t just charge in and attack,” Blake explained. “We had to wait until he thought he’d already won before we could get you out of there.” 

Gods, had her voice always been so soothing? It was hard, amid all of Yang’s pain and exhaustion and confusion, to hold onto her anger.

“Did you kill him?” Yang asked hoarsely.

“I didn’t,” Blake said, and Yang could hear the regret in her voice. “It was a matter of either going after him or trying to turn his group to our side.”

“Your side?”

“I’ll explain later, baby,” Blake said softly, reaching a hand up to smooth Yang’s hair from her face. “It’s… a lot.”

“Tell me,” Yang snapped, jerking away from Blake’s hand. The quick motion jolted her ribs, and she grunted in pain. “You owe me.”

Blake looked like she’d been slapped. She recoiled, pulling her hand back slowly, as if she was afraid to even touch Yang again.

"I know," she whispered, closing her eyes. "I know I do."

Yang said nothing as Blake slowly, hesitantly, scooped up another glob of the salve. She searched Yang’s face for permission, and Yang waited a moment before nodding curtly. She studied Blake’s expressions carefully, allowing her the silence she needed to find her words.

“In… a nutshell,” Blake said slowly. “I’ve been trying to change the White Fang, as best I can.”

“So noble,” Yang muttered.

“Not really.” Blake blew out a short exhale, slightly ragged with anxiety. “After what happened to Mantle, Adam was… emboldened, and so were the Fang. They were starting to cause more trouble. I just... wanted to put a stop to it, so Sun and I--”

“Sun?” Yang blinked in surprise. “What does Sun have to do with it?”

“He followed me, after I left,” Blake replied, rubbing her fingers in nervous circles across Yang’s bruises. “He said that he’d promised you… that he’d protect me. And I guess Ruby gave him a horse, so it didn’t take long for him to find me.”

“Oh.” Yang had almost forgotten her brief encounter with Sun, where she’d made him swear to keep Blake safe. “So he… stayed with you?”

_You let Sun stay, but not me?_ she wanted to ask, but it would have made her sound even more pathetic than she already was. Blake winced, like she knew what Yang had meant.

“Only because he was… persistent.”

Yang chuckled weakly, then groaned at the pain it caused her. Blake flattened her palm against her stomach soothingly.

“He always was,” Yang remarked.

“And he still is. He’s in town, too, y’know. He’s staying with Sage.”

“Bet Sage’s happy to see him again.”

“Probably.”

Yang closed her eyes. All of this felt so achingly familiar. Maybe no time had passed at all since she’d last seen Blake. With her eyes closed, she could almost imagine that their separation had never even happened. She opened them as Blake’s fingers smoothed over her ribs.

“I went back home, to see my parents,” Blake went on, her voice growing stronger the more she spoke. “My dad was one of the founding members of the White Fang, when he was younger, so he still had some power within our people. He’s been helping me try to reorganize things. So we’ve been traveling around, trying to spread the word, to gather people to our cause. We told them about our work in Mantle-- with you, and the old council-- and it’s gotten people interested. Then Sun…” Blake rolled her eyes. “He started spreading the stories. About what happened in Mantle that night, trying to paint you as this… human who would make sacrifices for our kind. What you did is making even the _humans _think twice about us.”

“No shit.” It should have been a relief, finally getting an answer to her questions. It had been _Sun _who’d spread the word. He’d spun the destruction of Mantle into a tragic love story between a human and Faunus. Using Yang’s name and reputation had bolstered their cause, all without Yang knowing it. Maybe that’s why the Faunus had been staring at her during her travels. “I was wonderin’ how that story got out.”

“You know Sun.” Blake smiled fondly. “He’s not very good at keeping his mouth shut.”

“Yeah…” The balm _was_ a relief on her bruises, and Blake’s fingers were warm. “So, you’ve got Sun. Anyone else here I should know about?”

“Like I said, there aren’t many of us. Adam would have noticed if there were a bunch of new people sneaking around in Fang masks,” Blake went on. “My dad should be on his way with backup, though, but right now, there’s only a handful of us here. Me and Sun. My mom. A few others.”

“Your mom.” The cat-eared woman who’d taken her gun, and later freed her from the noose, the woman who had Blake’s gold eyes. “That was… Kali, right?”

“Yeah.” Blake brightened a little, ears pricking up. “We knew Adam was gonna try to… hang you. So we made sure to keep her close, so that someone would be ready when you dropped.”

Yang shook her head slowly. It was all too much, and her head was starting to hurt. She just couldn’t keep up. She could barely still comprehend that this was _Blake_ here, sitting beside her. If it hadn’t been for the immense pain she was in, she might have thought that this was just another of her dreams.

But it was no dream.

“I’m… tryin’ to understand,” Yang said, her tone so soft. “You’ve been remakin’ the whole Fang, doin’ all this stuff. But that doesn’t explain why you never…”

_Came back for me_.

Suddenly, Yang’s throat felt hard and sore with emotion. She swallowed against it, determined not to cry.

“All this time, doin’ all this,” Yang said, pushing past the urge, her voice growing rough. “But you never even thought about lookin’ for me. You never even tried sendin’ a letter.”

“How could I?” Blake asked defensively, ears flattening. “Adam was on my tail, and I couldn’t let him come for you again.”

“So you left, and never looked back, huh?”

“I thought about you _every _day!” Blake snapped, her entire body going taut with anger, indignation, and… anxiety? She drew her hand back, and her voice broke as she added, “Every _single _day.”

“But you could never bring yourself to do it, could you?” Yang asked, eyes narrowing, not relenting. “I needed you. You _knew_ I needed you.”

“You… you still had Ruby,” Blake replied, voice beginning to quiver, and Yang saw the guilt etched into her face. “I knew you were in good hands. That you’d be okay. That--”

“I almost _died_,” Yang said coldly. “And you didn’t wanna face it. It was _easier_ to run.” She paused, and her voice cracked on her next words. “I missed you. All I wanted… was you, with me. You don’t know how much it hurt, not knowing where you were, or if you were okay...”

“Baby--” Blake began, but Yang shook her head in a sharp jerk.

“Don’t call me that,” she croaked. “Please.”

“O-Okay.”

Gods, Yang could _hear_ the tears in that word, even if Blake wasn’t actually crying. She closed her eyes again; if Blake _did_ start crying she didn’t know if she’d be able to hold onto her own fury. 

As angry as she was, the thought of seeing Blake cry still would have killed her.

“I’m… sorry.” Blake sounded so small, so broken. “I never should have… It was… Gods. I… I couldn’t…”

Her heart couldn’t let her keep her eyes closed. She opened them, and saw that Blake had pulled back, hunching in on herself, almost completely stiff except for the droop of her ears. Her eyes were glassy, though she wasn’t looking directly at Yang. 

The current pain Yang felt in her body was nothing compared to seeing Blake like this; Blake, who rarely cried, pushed nearly to her breaking point.

“Blake,” Yang said softly, regretting her hard words.

“It was… my fault. That he did this to you,” Blake choked out, finding focus on Yang’s stump. “Your arm…”

“You didn’t do that, Blake,” Yang told her quietly.

“He wouldn’t have done anything to you if it weren’t for me.” Blake gulped, and she dashed her tears away on the back of her hand. “I _knew_ what he was capable of, but I still acted like we were fine. And then… that night…”

Yang could see the fire again, all the shadows and smoke and Grimm. Monsters come alive, haunting Blake as much as they’d haunted Yang.

Blake curled herself into even more of a ball, covering her face in her hands, shaking.

“It was-- my fault,” she said again, her whisper barely more than a stutter. “He-- He _told_ me, remember? That I’d regret threatening him. Leaving him. And then… that night… he told me that he’d destroy everything I-- everything I--”

Her words devolved into whimpered sobs, and Yang found that her anger, the anger she’d tried to hold onto throughout their conversation, had fizzled out. As she’d told Weiss only weeks earlier, she still loved Blake. Seeing her here now, like this, hurt her heart.

Yang reached her arm out, wrapping it around Blake, pulling her gingerly closer. Blake froze, still shuddering.

“Did you not hear me?” Blake asked, volume rising slightly as she tried to pull away. “Everything that happened to you-- it was _my fault_. He would never have touched you if it wasn’t for me!”

“It was _him_ that did it, not you,” Yang reminded her, not letting go.

“But it was _because _of me!” Blake’s sobs came out in short gasps, tears streaming from her eyes as she went on. “I couldn’t-- I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting _hurt_ for being near me. How could I face you, after that? After what I did? And what if he came _back_?”

She finally stopped fighting. She sank against Yang, still managing to be careful to not put too much pressure on her ribcage. Her tears were hot on Yang’s skin as she lay her forehead onto Yang’s shoulder, shaking with small, mewling sobs.

The separation hadn’t just been torture for Yang; it had been self-imposed punishment for Blake. Yang felt the sting of tears in her own eyes. Their own love had curled around to hurt them. That love, and the fear that accompanied it, had been what had driven Blake away.

“You never needed to run, Blake,” Yang said thickly. “You never needed to do that to either of us.”

“I did-- so much-- to you,” Blake replied, her words barely intelligible through the sobs.

“_He_ did, Blake. _He_ did, not you.”

Yang moved to try and rock Blake, but had to stop when the motion caused a wave of pain to rush through her body.

“But it was still _because_ of me.”

“You don’t get it,” Yang croaked, fingers brushing Blake’s back. Tears started to fall out of her own eyes. “I thought he was gonna kill you. And I… I’d never been so fuckin’ scared in my life. If it meant savin’ your life, I don’t care that I lost my arm. I’d rather have you than an arm. I’d rather have you.”

“And then I ran,” Blake whimpered, continuing to shudder.

“Yeah,” Yang said, not arguing the fact. “And every day, I wished you were with me. I missed you so much. So _much_.”

“I’m-- I’m sorry,” Blake said between little hiccups. Her weeping had reached a point of uncontrolled spasming, and she was hardly able to gasp the words out. Her shakes were slightly painful to Yang’s sore body, but she didn’t let go. She didn’t think she ever _could_ let go again. “I didn’t want-- didn’t mean--”

“Shhh.” Yang continued to stroke her back, tears flowing freely down her cheeks, letting Blake ride it out. “It’s all right, baby. It’s all right.”

She had just told Blake not to call her that, hadn’t she? How quickly, she fell back into old habits, but she found she didn’t regret it. They had both suffered too much, when all they wanted was to be with each other.

What was the use, in holding onto that suffering?

“I love you,” Yang murmured, again and again. “I love you. I _love_ you.”

And all Blake could do was cry.

Eventually, the weeping ceased, the shaking slowed. Blake still hiccuped, but they no longer sounded painful. Yang stroked her hair.

“I’m sorry,” Blake croaked, a few final tears squeezed out of her swollen eyes. “I was-- so scared-- for you.”

“I know,” Yang replied achingly. “But you’re here. And that’s all that matters.”

Yang’s skin felt hot and sticky with tears. Blake sniffed, then forced a chuckle that sounded more like a strangled grunt. She curled closer into Yang, still being careful of her abdomen. It still hurt a little bit, but Yang only wanted her closer. If only she could’ve pulled Blake onto her lap, she would have.

Blake sighed, pulling her face back to look up at Yang. Her face was blotchy and her eyes bloodshot, but Yang had never seen someone so beautiful.

Yang lay back, groaning with pain, trying to pull Blake down with her. However, Blake resisted, shaking her head sadly.

“I didn’t finish with your bruises,” she said, voice low and scratchy from her sobs.

“Lay down with me first,” Yang pleaded. “Just for a minute.”

Blake hesitated, then obliged, laying on top of the covers and snuggling into Yang’s frame. Yang slid her arm beneath Blake’s back, holding her close. Finally, peacefulness flooded her, a relief after months of lonely discomfort.

“He did such a number on you,” Blake said softly, her golden eyes scanning Yang’s skin. “You look like one giant bruise.”

“Guess I didn’t learn my lesson the first time,” Yang chuckled. Blake frowned, turning her head to meet her gaze.

“How can you even joke about that?”

“It’s better than goin’ the other direction with it, Blake,” Yang replied, tone more sober. “I let myself wallow about it for too long. It was like… I was stuck. In myself, y’know? I’d lost so much, and I nearly lost myself, too.”

Tears threatened to spill out of Blake’s eyes again, and Yang wished she still had her other arm in order to wipe them away.

“I’m so… sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby.” Yang pushed past the pain and leaned forward, brushing a kiss against Blake’s sweaty forehead. “I’m fine without my arm, my… reputation. Even my other gun. But I’ve got you back. I’ll be okay.”

Blake looked up at her, slightly abashed. “That… reminds me. Hold on.”

She pulled herself gently out of Yang’s grip, wiping at her eyes again as she made her way to the dresser. On top of it was a cloth bag, and a belt. She fiddled with the belt for a moment, and then paused, clutching something to her chest.

“I… probably should’ve given this to Ruby. Before I left,” Blake admitted. She turned around, but her hands obscured whatever she was holding from view. Yang pushed herself up onto her elbow, trying to stop herself from hissing in pain as she did so.

It was a gun.

Yang frowned, squinting her swollen eyelids for a better look as Blake held it in front of her, offering it to Yang.

Yang took it, scanning the roses etched into the metal. She knew her guns well enough to know which gun was which, and this certainly wasn’t the gun she’d held onto over her long months of loneliness. Her eyes widened.

“You had my gun?” Yang asked, voice cracking. “The whole time?”

“I went back and got it… before I left.” Blake bit her lip, taking a step back nervously. “I know I should’ve given it to Ruby… but I couldn’t let it go. Not when I didn’t know if I’d ever see you…”

Blake cleared her throat, then rubbed at her eyes quickly, like she was trying to dash away more tears. Yang was surprised to feel the familiar prickle at her own eyes.

“It’s okay,” Yang told her, brushing her thumb over the metal. Blake had kept it well-polished, in much better condition than the gun Yang had been carrying.

“I’ve been… using it,” Blake said, clearing her throat again. “I’ve been practicing, every single day. When I was shooting, it was like… like you were still with me. Guiding my hand.”

Yang’s sharp intake of breath was painful and shuddering. She fought down the urge to start crying again, to break down and sob.

“Maybe I was.”

Blake leaned forward and cupped Yang’s cheeks in her hands, brushing away the tears that had resumed falling.

“You shot me down.” Yang said at the sudden realization. Blake nodded once, slowly, before releasing her hands. “You shot me down from the gallows with my own gun.”

“Just returning the favor.”

Yang smiled weakly. “If you could do that, you must be pretty good now.”

“I don’t make a habit of missing,” Blake replied, a smile of her own twitching to life. Yang almost laughed.

“You sound like a gunslinger.”

“_You’re_ the gunslinger,” Blake said firmly. Yang shrugged her stump.

“Not anymore. I can’t be a gunslinger with one hand.” She smiled sadly as Blake sat down beside her. She leaned into her. She couldn’t get enough of just _touching _her again. “Which is why…” Yang traced one of the roses with a finger. “...why you should keep it.”

“I’m sorry?” Blake stared at Yang, not comprehending.

“I can’t be a gunslinger anymore,” she reiterated, setting the gun in Blake’s lap. “But you _can_.”

“I-- I’m not a gunslinger,” Blake replied with a small, nervous chuckle. She passed the gun back to Yang. “I’ve gotten good, but I’m nothing like you.”

“Well, I’m lookin’ forward to seein’ what you’re capable of,” Yang said, taking the gun and pressing it back into Blake’s hands. “You shot me down. Saved my life. Only a real gunslinger coulda done somethin’ like that.”

“But it was your mom’s gun!”

“But I can’t use it like I used to, Blake. You’ve already put it to so much better use than I ever can. I’d rather see you usin’ it, than watchin’ it turn rusty.”

Hesitantly, Blake took hold of the gun. She was familiar with its weight, holding it with an ease that only came through regular use. She looked so natural, holding it. Yang couldn’t help but feel a little proud.

“You can still shoot with _your_ gun,” Blake said, almost a question. Yang bobbed her head once, agreeing.

“So, I’ll keep mine, you keep this one.”

“Y’know…” Blake set her gun on the nightstand and rested a hand on Yang’s thigh. “If you’ve got one gun, and I’ve got the other… maybe that makes us two halves of the same gunslinger.”

She leaned her face into Yang’s, forehead pressing lightly against hers. Her breath was soft and warm on Yang’s face.

“If we’re together… maybe we can be _the _Gunslinger again. You and me,” Blake said, fingers stroking Yang’s cheek.

“Together,” Yang repeated. A part of her was still uncertain of the word, of how long it meant. But Blake was achingly close, and Yang couldn’t resist the pull of her lips, the gravity of the that single, beautiful word.

She leaned close, brushing their lips together in the lightest caress. Blake returned the kiss tenderly, deepening the kiss.

They could be the Gunslinger. Together.

\--

It had been a long time since Yang had been bruised up so extensively. Aside from a broken rib and the storm of color that ran down her torso, her arm and neck bore shades of blue and purple from the various ropes she’d worn. When Kali called up that it was time for dinner, Blake put the nightshirt over Yang’s head, sparing her the pain that would have come from doing it herself.

“We would’ve put you in something when we got you back here, but we didn’t know how badly you’d feel when you woke up,” Blake explained apologetically. “We didn’t want to make you take a shirt on and off to put the salve on if it was gonna cause you too much pain.”

“It’s okay,” Yang grumbled as she carefully navigated her arm through the sleeve, wincing. “Gods, I shoulda known he’d be the type to kick someone while they’re down. He ain’t exactly a gentleman.”

“That he isn’t,” Blake agreed, straightening the nightshirt. “But now, at least, I think most people see him for what he is. He turned the whole town against himself today.”

“Oh, _yeah_.” Yang perked up. She’d been too caught up in her own feelings to remember that Adam had effectively damned himself to the town’s Faunus population. “What’ll it mean for the White Fang, d’you think?”

“He abandoned them,” Blake replied harshly. “The people were pissed that he ignored what _they_ wanted, and chose to do what _he_ wanted instead. After I shot you down, there was nearly a riot, and he ran when he saw that they were gonna fight back. He abandoned his own followers there. There’s no way in hell he’s still in charge.”

“Serves him right,” Yang muttered. She moved to pull the covers off and get out of bed, but Blake stopped her.

“I’ll bring something up,” she said reassuringly. “Ruby and the others are going to want to see how you’re doing, though. You up for visitors?”

“You betcha.” Yang cracked a smile. “Just make sure they’re careful if they try to hug me.”

She didn’t bother laying back down for the few minutes Blake was gone. It was too uncomfortable, laying down and sitting back up unnecessarily. Just the act of breathing didn’t feel good, and with Blake gone, there was nothing to distract her from it.

Gods. Blake’s return still didn’t feel quite real.

She looked around the room like she’d never seen it before. She hadn’t been keeping things organized since she’d been here, and a part of her was embarrassed that Blake had seen it in such a disarray. Then again, Blake had always known that Yang wasn’t the neatest person in the world. And after having seen Yang in such a weakened state, she had a feeling that a messy bedroom was the last thing on Blake’s mind.

Blake would understand.

It felt like an absurdly long time before the door creaked open again. Blake came in holding a tray, Weiss pushing open the door and Ruby springing up behind them.

“How’re you feelin’?” Ruby asked anxiously, scooting around Blake to get to her sister. She opened her arms automatically, then thought better of it and lowered them.

“‘Bout how you’d expect,” Yang said, leveling out her legs for Blake to set the tray on her lap. All that was on it was a bowl of broth. She looked up at Blake questioningly.

“Mom said broth first,” Blake told her, taking a careful seat on the bed. “Just to make sure your stomach is settled. It took a beating today, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Yang took a cautious sip. The broth was still hot, but not painfully so. “Is your mom stayin’ here?”

“And my dad, once he gets here.”

“Kali’s taken over the kitchen,” Weiss said, rolling her eyes. “At least she and Pyrrha get along well.”

Then Weiss paused, giving Yang a careful, scrutinizing gaze through her monocle. Her eyes lingered an extra second on the bruised circle around Yang’s neck, and her brows twitched in a scowl.

“You had us worried sick,” Ruby said gently, placing a hand over Yang’s shin. “We had someone on the lookout to see if a fight was gonna break out, but we didn’t hear about what happened at the gallows till after it happened. And when we saw you, and Blake…”

Ruby’s voice cracked on Blake’s name, and she bit her lip.

“It _was_ a shock,” Weiss added. “Are… you _really _okay?”

Behind Blake’s back, Yang could see Weiss’s obvious worry as she nodded at Blake. She understood the question immediately for what it was.

_Was she okay now that Blake was back?_

“I’m okay,” Yang said firmly, pushing past any lingering doubts she might have still had. “_Really_.”

She began to dig into her soup in earnest, though she felt Weiss’s continued, wary stare. She could understand Weiss’s concern, but it was something to think about later, when her insides didn’t feel like they were caving in.

“And thank the _gods_ for that!” Ruby declared, missing the hidden meaning behind Weiss’s words. She threw her arms around Blake with the enthusiasm she had probably intended for Yang. Blake accidentally hit Yang’s tray with the force of the hug, spilling a little soup out of Yang’s bowl.

“Watch it, Ruby,” Yang said with a sigh, setting the spoon down and shifting the tray away from them.

“Oops!” Ruby released Blake sheepishly. “Sorry!”

“It’s bad enough that I got my ass beat,” Yang grumbled. “Now my own sister, my own flesh and blood, is tryin’ to give me a burn!”

It wasn’t even that funny of a joke, but Blake tried to muffle a laugh beneath her hand. Just seeing her laugh was enough to make Yang smile again.

She’d so missed that laugh.

Ruby and Weiss didn’t stay long. They had been mostly concerned to see how Yang was feeling, but now that they had seen with their own eyes that Yang was awake and well enough to crack jokes, they seemed to relax.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Ruby told her with a soft smile. She carefully wrapped her arms around Yang, so loose that she was hardly touching her at all, and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. “Quit gettin’ yourself into trouble.”

“Trouble just seems to find _me_,” Yang insisted, but Ruby snorted.

“Whatever you say…”

Weiss, too, gave Yang a barely-touching kind of hug, pulling back after giving her a quick peck on the forehead.

“Just get some rest, and maybe tomorrow, we can talk about your reckless behavior,” she said sternly, and Yang wrinkled her nose.

“I’m glad I have a lecture to look forward to. Like I’m not already sufferin’ enough.”

Weiss rolled her eyes, but Yang could sense the fondness there. As Ruby and Weiss left, closing the door quietly behind them, Yang’s heart was full of grateful warmth for them.

“When you finish eating, you oughta get some more rest,” Blake said, nodding to Yang’s tray. “I have to go out for a bit-- I need to regroup with the White Fang-- but I’ll be back tonight.”

“You’re stayin’ here, right?”

“Yeah. Winter offered us her room.”

Yang raised an eyebrow. If anything, she would have expected Ruby to share Yang’s bedroom for a few nights. Blake must have seen her confusion.

“I guess she’s going to stay at Robyn’s? We told her we could’ve stayed with other folks in town, but she insisted.”

_Robyn’s_. Yang grinned. She supposed that Winter offering the Belladonnas her bedroom wasn’t just a charitable sacrifice. She shook her head, amused. “Good for her.”

“What?”

“Winter is totally into Robyn,” Yang explained with a small chuckle, trying to ignore the pain the sound brought on. “Leave it to Winter to take advantage of a time like this…”

It really _was_ nice to hear Blake’s laugh again. This had been the laugh she’d fallen in love with, and to Yang’s ears, it was as nourishing as rain in the desert.

“If… you want to,” Yang said, wondering why she felt so nervous. “You could stay with me tonight. In here.”

“You… want me to stay?” Blake sounded so bewildered, and touched, and it made Yang’s heart ache.

“For months… I woulda given anything for you to sleep by my side again,” she replied softly. “I don’t… wanna sleep alone anymore. If I don’t have to. So if you want to stay with me tonight… I’d really like that. I’ve… missed you. So much.”

Blake reached out a hesitant hand toward Yang's hair. She paused. She seemed afraid to touch it, perhaps thinking about Yang's earlier admonishment. Encouragingly, Yang placed her hand on Blake's outstretched one, coaxing it closer. This seemed to be the all the reassurance Blake needed, and she finally ran her fingers through her hair. It was such a gentle touch, and Yang closed her eyes reflexively.

“I’ve missed you more than you could possibly know,” Blake murmured, though her voice was ragged and uneven. She sounded close to tears. “So if you want me here… I would love to stay. I just… didn’t know if you’d want me to.”

“I do,” Yang said, voice cracking. “I really, really do.”

\--

Despite the bruise salve, Yang’s whole body still ached, and even thinking fatigued her. Blake had taken the tray and its now-empty bowl, and had helped Yang lay back down. Blake had kissed her goodbye-- it was such a timid kiss, still so uncertain-- but it was a comfort when the rest of her body hurt.

It was a restless sleep. Every time she moved, or tried to roll over, pain would radiate down her body. The discomfort was enough to make her dreams more disturbing than usual. Adam lurked in the corners of her nightmares, sometimes brandishing his sword, other times pointing at the gallows, other times holding a noose. The more she saw him, the more she moved in bed, and the more she moved, the more hurt, and the more she hurt, the more she dreamed.

It was a never-ending circuit of nightmares.

Something shifted in the bed, and Yang’s eyes fluttered open. Her heart pounded and she automatically tried to sit up, gasping in a pained breath at her sudden motion.

“Are you okay?” a worried voice asked. Blake. Yang forced herself to relax, slowly sliding back under the blanket.

“Yeah,” she replied quietly. “You just get back?”

“Yeah. We had a lot to talk about tonight. I can fill you in tomorrow, if you’d like,” Blake said, shifting onto her side. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Yang would have rolled over to face Blake if she could have, so instead, she turned her head to the side. In the darkness, Blake’s eyes reflected moonlight. The way her eyes shone was just another item that had been on Yang’s list of things that she’d missed about Blake.

“D’you… want some more of the bruise stuff?”

“Nah. I’m still good, I think.”

“Okay… just let me know if you change your mind.”

Hesitantly, Blake wriggled closer, constantly watching Yang’s face, as if worried her proximity was unwelcome. The ghost of Yang’s missing arm twitched; she wanted to hold Blake with it, wanted to pull her close. But Blake was on the wrong side of her, and for that fact, Yang was awash with sadness.

“Yang? What’s wrong?” Blake asked. Yang had forgotten how perceptive she was.

“It’s… nothin’,” Yang replied, giving her a weak smile. “It’s just…” She paused. It would sound stupid, saying it aloud, but Blake was looking at her with such an understanding look in her eyes. She’d almost forgotten how safe it was, to show Blake her vulnerability “I kinda wish you were on my other side. Then I could… hold you. Like I want to.”

“Oh.”

Yang regretted her words immediately, seeing the guilt on Blake’s face. No doubt she was blaming herself for this very thing.

“It’s not a big deal,” Yang said hurriedly. “Once I’m healed up, I can just use my other arm.”

“I’m… sorry,” Blake replied in a small voice.

“Don’t,” Yang said firmly. “We’ve been through this already. And besides…” She smiled, trying to add a little levity. “I’m prob’ly too sore for that anyway.”

Blake’s little huff of laughter was reassuring. Yang smiled as Blake carefully sidled closer, moving slowly so as not to disturb Yang’s body too much. However, she still didn’t touch. She stopped just short of that, uncertain how to proceed.

“Closer,” Yang murmured. “You can be close, as long as there ain’t too much pressure on my ribs.”

“Right,” Blake breathed. She closed the distance between them, molding her body to fit against Yang’s. She was soft, and warm, and Yang could almost forget about her own pain. Against her, Blake’s chest rose and fell rapidly, nerves apparently tightening at their closeness, until Yang tipped her head to touch lightly against Blake’s.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “Sleep, baby.”

Blake took a deep breath, then exhaled it. Yang craned her neck enough to kiss Blake’s forehead, then trailed down to the tip of her nose, and then, finally, her lips.

That seemed to be what settled Blake down. She sighed into Yang’s mouth, and it sounded like pure relief and contentment.

“I’ve missed you,” Yang whispered. She didn’t pull her face back, eyes flicking up to meet Blake’s. Her soul was right there, where she’d left it.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Blake replied quietly. The breath behind her words brushed Yang’s lips like a kiss of their own. Yang finally set her head back down in the pillows, and continued to feel Blake’s breath against her neck.

Its gentle rhythm lulled her to sleep.

\--

Yang’s eyes opened slowly. The sunlight was strong through the cracks in the curtains, and the room was warming quickly, though she still felt lost in a dream. Maybe the events of the day before _had_ been a dream. How many times had she dreamt that Blake had come back to her, only to be gone when Yang awoke?

Her injuries, at least, weren’t a dream. She groaned, bringing a hand over to rest over her stomach. The nightshirt prevented her from seeing the color, but it _felt_ like she was black and blue.

“You okay?”

Yang rolled her head to find Blake still laying beside her, studying her. There were dark shadows under her eyes and her hair was mussed from sleep, which meant she probably hadn’t been awake long, either. But she was there, and beautifully alive. At last, the worried knot in Yang’s stomach eased. It _hadn’t_ been a dream after all.

“I still can’t believe you’re real,” Yang rasped. She tried to reach her hand over, wanting to stroke her cheek, but let out a small cry of pain as it stretched the muscles in her torso.

“Shhh.” Blake pushed herself up, brushing Yang’s hair away from her face. “Let me get the balm.”

Yang rubbed at her eyes as Blake rose. As much as she wanted to just stay in bed, she was going to have to get up. After the attack, she needed to make sure things in town were still running smoothly. If there were any members of the White Gang locked up in the kennels, she would need to see to them, as well.

She forced herself to sit up, gritting her teeth against the pain. She adjusted herself a little in bed, wincing as she managed to pull her nightshirt up to her waist. Taking it off, at least, was easier than putting it on had been.

"Can I... help?" Blake asked worriedly, but Yang had already pulled her head through the hole.

"I got it," Yang replied, pressing a hand lightly over her abdomen. It was just as bad as yesterday, covered in splotches of purples and maroons. Her arm, though also bruised and a little sore, wasn't useless, which relieved her. "I might need a little help puttin’ things on, though. The less I move my ribs around, the better, and my buttons might be a little too much for me right now."

"Of course!" Blake said, nodding, seeming eager to help. “Anything you need.”

“Just for now,” Yang added hastily. “Till my ribs can handle a little more movement, y’know?”

“Of course.” Blake nodded, taking a seat on the bed beside Yang. “Let me look at you.”

Yang grimaced, then lay back against the headboard. She tugged the blanket down to her lap, exposing her skin and all of the bruises it bore. Blake scanned her body appraisingly, brows furrowing slightly.

"You _have_ lost weight," she pointed out. 

"Yeah," Yang said seriously. "My right arm was very heavy."

"I mean," Blake said, looking amused, but also looking guilty for her that amusement, "your _body_. Have you not been eating?"

"I'm… doin' better," Yang replied uncomfortably, itching to pull the blanket back up over herself. "But it's been… rough. You look like you've skipped a few meals, too, y'know."

Blake looked into her lap, at the uncapped jar of the bruise salve. She dipped her fingers into it. "I guess both of us have had a little trouble looking after ourselves."

"Nowhere to go but up, though, huh?" Yang asked, hoping she sounded at least a _little_ reassuring.

"Yeah," Blake said, smiling a little. "We'll do better."

She closed her eyes at Blake's touch, feeling some relief right away. Blake ran a smoothing hand across the bruises, and Yang felt so _alive_ at the sensation. Her breathing quickened, and she--

Yang nearly yelped, shuddering away instinctively from the touch when Blake's hand pressed over a particular spot on her ribs. Her eyes watered with the pain of it even as Blake pulled back quickly.

"What happened?" she asked, eyes wide as she looked at the spot she just touched.

"I think that's a broken rib," Yang gasped. Somehow, she managed a smile before she shook her head. "Just… go easy there."

"I'm so sorry!" Blake said, horrified. "I wasn't being careful."

"It's okay! I'm good, see?" Even now, the sharp pain was subsiding to a persistent ache. "I'm fine!"

But she could tell that Blake was still spooked. Her touch turned feather-light, hardly a touch at all as her hand skidded over Yang's skin. Without rubbing it in, the salve was ineffective, so Yang placed a hand on Blake’s wrist.

“It’s okay,” she repeated gently. “Just go easy.”

With Yang’s encouragement, Blake used a little more pressure, though she moved slowly. She was clearly still nervous about causing Yang any undue pain. To reassure her, Yang kept her hand atop Blake’s as she worked. Yang looked up, meeting Blake’s eyes. Blake’s hand stopped, and their gazes held.

“And this is all right?” Blake asked, oddly breathless. 

“Yeah.” Yang swallowed, then broke the eye contact, letting Blake continue her work.

With Blake’s slower pace, it took longer to finish applying the salve than it had the day before. She was more thorough, however, and Yang found she felt a little more comfortable now. She sighed with relief.

“Better?” Blake asked, setting the jar aside. Yang nodded, and gave her a small, dopey smile.

“By a lot.” She hesitated. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Blake replied warmly, wiping her hands on her nightshirt. “I’m… glad I can do something for you. I mean, I know it can’t make up for… for not being there, before, but--”

Yang pressed a finger to Blake’s lips, silencing her gently. “It’s okay,” she murmured before pulling her hand back. “It’s okay.”

They locked eyes again. They were too familiar to look away with discomfort, but the silence itself was still strangely awkward. It still felt like there was so much to say, but Yang certainly didn’t know how to say any of it. Her voice caught in her throat.

“So,” she finally said.

“So,” Blake replied. There was still so much uncertainty in her expression. Yang cleared her throat.

“What’re your… uh… plans? For today?” she asked, her pitch jumping on the questions. The corners of Blake’s mouth twitched.

“My dad and the rest of our crew should be here at some point this afternoon, so I’ll need to let them know everything that’s happened,” Blake explained, nervously bunching her nightshirt in her fist. “Then we’ll have to come up with a game plan on how we want to proceed. Now that we’ve disbanded Adam’s group, we can focus on bringing everyone together. Most of the resistance in the cities were Adam’s followers, but now that he’s run off… it shouldn’t be too much work to get them to our side.”

“There’s still been no sign of him?”

“None, as of last night.” Blake scowled. “I don’t know if he knew how badly he fucked up. The Fang he left here-- the people he abandoned-- are furious. A few people called him a coward, and I can’t say I blame them. They put a lot of trust in him. I guess he told them that a town like this, with a Faunus majority, would be easy to turn to our side. They were confused when everyone tried defending you. He told them a lot of lies, and there’s no coming back from that.”

“He’s still out there somewhere,” Yang murmured, staring out toward the window. On the other side of the glass, somewhere out in the world, Adam was still alive. She fought the urge to shudder. Blake nodded solemnly.

“He is.”

“Does it… scare you?” Yang asked, looking back to Blake. She slipped her arm around Blake’s waist, and automatically, Blake curled against her. She moved carefully, so as not to hit Yang too hard in the ribs, but snuggled as closely as she could. “That he’s still out there?”

“He’s scared me since the day we met,” Blake admitted. “Even when we were… on better terms, he always had something that drove him. It was fire, and wild, and I used to think it was… I don’t know. It was kind of frightening, even then. I used to think it was passion… but it wasn’t. It was just rage. And malice. And _spite_. But even then, it scared me. It _still _scares me, knowing how far he’ll go in the name of that hatred. How far he’s already gone.” She paused. “Are _you_ scared?”

“Yeah.” Yang stroked Blake’s back with her thumb. “A lot.”

“And you still confronted him yesterday,” Blake remarked, shaking her head slightly. “I don’t know whether that was brave, or just crazy.”

“Prob’ly both.”

Blake chuckled. She turned a little, to run her hands through Yang’s hair. It pulled a little, slightly tangled from sleep, but Yang didn’t even wince. She just smiled.

“I’m so glad you came back,” she said softly. Blake tipped her head forward, noses brushing and foreheads touching.

“So am I,” she breathed. “Every day, I thought about you. How you were. What you were doing. I can’t tell you how many times I started writing letters to you, and just threw them all away. I was… scared. That you hated me for running.”

“I never hated you.” She slid her hand back to Blake’s front, feeling the curve of her body beneath her hand. Simple touch was so comforting. “Sometimes, I tried to… but I just couldn’t. You’re… you’re a part of my heart, Blake. Like you were sayin’ yesterday. We’re two halves of the same gunslinger. Two halves of the same whole.” She paused. “I never stopped lovin’ you. I never _will_ stop lovin’ you. No matter what happens.”

“And you,” Blake replied, voice raspy. Her eyes shone. “I’ve never stopped loving you for even a minute. I always have, and I always will.” 

_I always will_.

Simple words, but they implied a future. A future full of their love. Sweet warmth filled Yang as she caught Blake’s lips on her own. There was still danger in that future, still so many uncertainties. But now, there was something else, too.

There was hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote half the chapter over the course of like, three days, and then I fucked off to another state (and I just so happened to see my beta reader HI AZIMINIL THANKS FOR BETA-ING) and it took me much longer to finish than I meant it to... but here it is now! I hope it wasn't too painful a wait, haha.


	19. Chapter 19

It became apparent on the stairs that Yang had no business going back to work that day.

With Blake’s help, Yang managed to get fully dressed that morning. Too much lurching of her stomach muscles made her groan with discomfort, and Blake ended up doing most of the work. Trying to pull her pants on by herself made Yang yelp, and she was still panting with exertion and pain by the time Blake buttoned her fly.

Despite that, Yang was still hopeful about going to work… until the time came to walk down the stairs.

Each step sent shockwaves racing down her torso, and she gritted her teeth to keep from grunting. It helped, having her arm slung around Blake’s shoulders, and she found herself using Blake for a lot more support than she’d anticipated.

“Sorry!” she gasped when they made it to the base of their stairs. Drawing in breath continued to hurt. “I didn’t… think that would be… so hard.”

“It’s okay,” Blake replied, carefully easing Yang’s arm back down. “I’m sure no one would’ve blamed you if you needed another few days in bed.”

“I’m done with layin’ around in bed,” Yang reminded her, gingerly straightening up. “But… I dunno if I can get back to the office today. I may need a few days.”

“You’ve more than earned some time off, love.”

Even though Yang had initially protested the use of pet names, hearing Blake call her _love_ and _baby_ again put a warm feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with bruises.

She moved slowly toward the dining room, and Blake slowed her own pace down to walk beside her. The smell of bacon permeated the air, and Yang realized just how hungry she was. The broth from the night before hadn’t been enough, and the stab of hunger, combined with the broken ribs, nearly made her double over.

Weiss and Ruby were already at the table when Yang stumbled in, and both of them looked up with both worry and relief.

“I’m surprised to see you down here,” Weiss commented, pushing her empty mug aside. “How are you feeling?”

“Almost dead, but not quite,” she grumbled, taking a seat. Blake pulled another chair up close to her and set a hand on her thigh. Any distance between them still felt like it was too much. “I was gonna try and get back to work today, but--”

“No,” Blake, Ruby, and Weiss said in unison. They all looked at each other with various levels of amusement. Yang huffed and rolled her eyes.

“I already decided not to, anyway, but thanks for y’alls input.”

“Is that Yang I hear?” Pyrrha asked, poking her head out of the kitchen. Her apron was coated in flour, and her face was flushed, clashing somewhat with her red hair. “Darlin’, what the _hell _are you doin’ up?”

“I was gettin’ a little tired of the same four walls,” Yang replied cheerfully. “I was startin’ to feel like a caged animal!”

Yang caught the way Ruby hid her smile. Just months ago, her depression had been so bad that Yang had struggled to even get herself out of bed, let alone leave her bedroom. Now, she couldn’t stand the idea of being so restricted. She’d come such a long way since her time in Patch.

“Just don’t hurt yourself tryin’ to do too much,” Pyrrha reminded her, setting a hand on Weiss’s shoulder. Absently, Weiss set her own hand over it. “Which is somethin’ I have to remind _this _one every day!”

“Hey!” Weiss looked up at Pyrrha indignantly, who laughed. Pyrrha gave her a light kiss on the top of her head.

“Think you can handle some real food today?” she asked Yang, a twinkle in her eye.

“_Definitely_.”

“Already working on it!” a voice called from the kitchen. Yang raised her eyebrows and shot Blake a look.

“Mom,” Blake replied, sounding slightly exasperated. “It might’ve been nice to ask her first.”

“I’m just making a little of everything, so she has some options!”

“Oh, gods.” Blake buried her face in her hands, and Yang laughed.

“She’s prob’ly just enthusiastic,” she told her in a low, amused voice. “And I’m sure I’ll eat everything she’s made!” she added, more loudly for Kali’s benefit. 

“I dunno,” Pyrrha told her, looking back into the kitchen. “She made a _lot_.”

“Well, Ghira should be arriving soon, and I want to make sure we’re prepared!” Kali said, walking out of the kitchen with a heavily-laden tray in hand. “You know how your father eats.”

Yang watched hungrily as Kali set the tray on the table. All eyes went wide, and it looked like Ruby started to drool a little. There were scrambled eggs, fried eggs, thick slabs of bacon, links of sausage, and a large, juicy ham steak.

“Do you mind grabbing the other tray, Pyrrha dear?” Kali asked, organizing the plates of food around the table.

“_Another_ tray?” Blake asked dubiously, but Pyrrha had already darted into the kitchen. She came back out with a second tray with a basket of hot biscuits, slices of toasted bread, bowls of bright yellow butter and sausage gravy, and an even larger bowl of preserved peaches.

“Holy shit,” Yang said, salivating. “This is a _lot_.”

“I stocked up at the market last night,” Kali explained with a smile. She looked so similar to Blake, it was no wonder Yang had been mistaken when she’d cut Yang out of her noose. “It’s so nice to have access to a kitchen again! Thank you for letting me use yours, girls.”

“Of course! I know _I’m _learnin’ a thing or two,” Pyrrha said with a small laugh. “You’re a wonderful cook.”

“How is it _you’re_ a good cook…” Yang began, and already, Blake’s mouth began to open in protest, “but your daughter could burn _water_?”

Ruby burst into laughter, while Weiss and Pyrrha tried to keep their smiles from growing too large.

“I’m not _that_ bad!” Blake complained, and Yang snorted.

“The first time you cooked for me, the house smelled like smoke for a _week_!”

“That’s not true and you know it!”

As they bickered, everyone began to serve themselves. Yang reached out for the bacon automatically, forgetting for a minute that stretching her arm too far would hurt. She groaned, dropping her hand, and everyone looked over at her anxiously.

“Here, let me help,” Blake offered, taking Yang’s plate. Her forehead was creased with worry. 

“Thanks,” Yang said with a grunt, sitting carefully back in her seat. She tried not to let her frustration show.

When Blake set her plate back in front of her, she grabbed her silverware and made to cut up Yang’s ham, and Yang felt another flash of irritation.

“I got it,” Yang said, stopping Blake’s hand. Blake flushed.

“But your arm--”

“I’m not totally useless. I can still cut my own food.”

To prove her point, Yang took her fork. Ruby had made it specially for her, with a beveled edge. She cut into the ham, making a bite-sized piece with little effort. She stabbed it with a little more force than was probably necessary, and held it up to Blake.

“See?” she asked, aware that the others were watching her. She tried to relax her tone, but Blake was still visibly tense. “I’m good.”

“I… okay,” Blake replied meekly. Yang ate it slowly, feeling slightly guilty for her sharpness.

Silence fell, strange and uncomfortable, no one knowing what to say to dispel the awkwardness. Yang felt heat rise to her cheeks.

“Yeah, she’s, uh… gotten pretty good with havin’ one hand,” Ruby piped up. It was a good attempt, but ineffective; Weiss gave a short nod, and Blake couldn’t look at any of them as she filled up her own plate.

“That was a very brave thing for you to do,” Kali said warmly, taking a seat across from them, as if she didn’t sense the uneasiness. “Both my husband and I have been so grateful for what you did for our daughter.”

“_Mom_!” Blake said, ears falling back in embarrassment.

“All I’m saying is--”

There was a sound of a door slamming shut, and everyone shifted in their seats to get a look at the newcomer. Yang was relieved for the interruption.

“Mornin’, Winter,” she called, cutting up another piece of ham. “Joinin’ us for breakfast?”

Winter poked her head into the dining room. Her blue eyes flickered wistfully to the table. She shook her head.

“Afraid not. Robyn and her team are going to do a final sweep for Grimm, and she invited me to come along,” she replied. “I’m just here to grab my weapons.”

“Please, help yourself to anything for the road,” Kali said quickly. “We have plenty.”

“Oh…” Winter looked a little surprised, then smiled. “Of course.”

As Pyrrha darted to the kitchen for a clean napkin, Winter grabbed a biscuit from the basket and sliced it in half. One by one, everyone else returned to their meals, Blake looking down into her plate. She still looked a little ashamed.

“Thank you,” Winter said, taking the napkin from Pyrrha to wrap the biscuit. “There weren’t as many Grimm as we thought there’d be, so this is more of a preventative measure than anything else. You did a good job settling the crowd yesterday, Blake.”

“Thanks,” Blake replied, a relieved smile easing her tension a little.

“And it’s good to see you up, Yang,” Winter added, giving her a once-over. “How’re you feeling?”

“Not… great,” she admitted, “but it coulda been a lot worse.”

“I’ll say,” she agreed. She shook her head slowly. “I still can’t decide if what you did was brave or foolish.”

“Which is _exactly_ what I thought,” Weiss said crossly, and Winter chuckled. She was in a better mood than Yang would have expected, given the events of the day before.

“I hope you were comfortable last night?” Winter asked, looking back to Blake and Kali.

“_Very_. Thank you, dear,” Kali replied with a smile.

“And how was _your _night?” Yang asked, all innocence. “I hope Robyn didn’t treat you too badly.”

At this, Winter _blushed_, cheeks tinging pink. “She is an, ah… excellent hostess.” She cleared her throat. “Speaking of Robyn, I really do need to go. Thank you, Mrs. Belladonna.”

“Bye,” Yang said lazily, and everyone else murmured their own farewells as Winter turned. To Yang’s well-trained eye, her slight bow-legged gait was unmistakable. She smirked.

“I’ll see you out,” Kali offered, pushing a chair up. “I’m going to see if Ghira’s arrived.”

“Sounds good,” Pyrrha said with a nod and a smile.

“The Grimm attacks certainly weren’t as bad as I’d thought they would be,” Weiss remarked, daintily cutting up her sausage. “That’s very kind of Winter, to help Robyn up with the sweeps.”

“_Kind_,” Yang muttered, grin widening. “She’s charitable, that one.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Weiss asked, staring daggers at Yang through her monocle.

“She just wants to spend more time with Robyn,” Yang explained, rolling her eyes. Weiss frowned, not understanding. Ruby cackled, and Weiss’s eyes widened.

“But Robyn… she’s a councilwoman!” she said, aghast.

“So are you, sweetheart,” Pyrrha reminded her with a patient smile. “And it never stopped me.”

“Well, that was… different,” Weiss replied defensively. “And Winter doesn’t _like_ her!”

“It’s definitely moved beyond the _liking_,” Yang told her with a grin.

“And you can’t say she argued too much about spending the night with her,” Blake pointed out. Weiss’s mouth dropped open.

“You don’t think they--?!”

“They did,” Yang replied smugly. The look that crossed over Weiss’s face was hysterically funny, a mix of disbelief, indignation, and horror.

“_Gods_,” she exclaimed, and everyone around the table laughed. “With _Robyn_?!”

“It seems to be that way,” Pyrrha said mildly. “I can’t say I’m surprised, though.”

“You _knew_?!”

“It was easy enough to guess… I’m surprised you didn’t see it.”

Yang resumed eating, amused as Weiss seemed to go through the five stages of grief over the course of a few minutes. Beneath the table, Yang felt Blake’s hand on her thigh.

“I’m sorry. About earlier,” Blake murmured as Weiss’s shrill voice went on and on. “I shouldn’t have presumed.”

“It’s all right.” Yang set her fork down and reached for Blake’s hand. She gave it a squeeze. “It takes some gettin’ used to. Especially now, I guess, what with my ribs and all. But… I guess I was bein’ an asshole. I’m sorry, babe.”

She looked up, into those beautiful golden eyes she so loved. Blake gave her a soft smile before leaning in, brushing their lips together.

Even if it took some time to adjust, Yang knew they’d be okay.

\--

It ended up being another hour before Ghira arrived with their contingent of White Fang, and it was even longer before he arrived at Weiss’s house. By then, the rest of the breakfast was cold, though Kali made the preparations to heat everything up.

Yang had relocated to a couch in the small living room, though it had taken some time for her to get comfortable. Blake had managed to find several pillows to prop her up, and had spent a long time trying to organize them just right.

“It’s fine!” Yang reassured her as Blake studied her handiwork. “Really.”

“I don’t know… it still doesn’t look very comfortable. If I put another behind your back--”

“Then I don’t think there’d be any room for _me _left on the couch!” Yang gave her a smile. “I’m fine. Are you sure y’all don’t need me?”

“I’m sure,” Blake replied, eyes softening. “You already ate. We’re just gonna give Dad the full rundown of what happened yesterday, and see if he has any news. If we’re lucky, maybe he heard where Adam ran off to.”

“Adam,” Yang growled. “He’s like a rattlesnake. He strikes hard and fast, and then slithers off to hide. Like a coward.”

“Well, he’s running out of places to do that hiding,” Blake said. “He won’t be able to claim sanctuary with the White Fang anymore. He’s either gonna have to face us… or leave the Solitas Desert for good.”

“He ain’t gonna let us arrest him.”

“I know. Which means we’ll have to prepare for the worst.”

Yang shivered. With the White Fang on their side, there was no way Adam would make it out alive. Somehow, he _would_ die. She only feared the cost.

“So y’all’ll come up with a plan?” Yang asked worriedly.

“Yes.”

Yang sighed. She forced herself to relax. Blake would tell her everything that they discussed and came up with; there was no reason for her to even leave the couch. Still, she hated the thought of doing nothing, of feeling so useless.

The knock at the door was loud, and Yang would have gotten up if Blake hadn’t kept a hand on her shoulder.

“You are _not_ getting up yet,” she said firmly. “There are plenty of other people in this house who can answer a door.”

“Oh, that’s a good point,” Yang replied sheepishly. She forced herself to relax even as there was another knock.

“I’ll get it,” Blake called, giving Yang a quick kiss before striding toward the door. Yang closed her eyes, trying to relax into the pillows. If she could get away with a nap, she would. Her stomach was full, and all her aching body wanted to do was rest. 

She closed her eyes, trying to not focus too hard on the conversation in the doorway. She heard Blake greet whoever it was, and then a deep rumble of booming laughter.

“Yes, I _am_ hungry,” she heard the man say. “I’m looking forward to some real home cooking again!”

There was another exchange of words that Yang couldn’t understand, and more laughter. The levity was refreshing. For the weeks Yang had been living in Weiss’s house, she couldn’t remember any of them being so free with their laughter. There had always been some level of tension, giving the house an almost somber atmosphere. With laughter like that, it almost felt homey. Yang smiled sleepily at the sound as she closed her eyes.

She must have dozed off a little, for she came to when she felt someone draw a blanket over her body. Her eyelids fluttered open to find Kali tucking a blanket around her.

“What’re you doin’?” Yang asked groggily, trying to sit up a little. Her ribs protested the action, and she winced.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Kali said, giving Yang an apologetic smile.

“Where’s Blake?” She felt a momentary, sinking panic before Kali set a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Everyone’s finishing up breakfast, discussing Fang matters. I’ll be surprised if there’s any leftovers.” Kali’s smile was so easy and cheerful, and it was hard to not smile back. “Ghira is so excited to meet you, you know.”

Blake’s father. It took her a moment to connect the name with the relation, and Yang finally relaxed.

“Oh,” she said, blinking her eyes rapidly to try to rouse herself. “Yeah. Me, too.”

Kali’s eyes softened. She pulled up a chair, sitting close enough that she could easily place her hand back to Yang’s shoulder. “I just… wanted to check in on you. We haven’t really had much of a chance to talk yet, have we?”

“Things _have_ been a little… chaotic,” Yang agreed, and Kali laughed.

“To say the least.” Her touch on Yang’s shoulder wasn’t unwelcome. It was gentle, comforting. “Still. I’m glad you got out all right. We knew Adam was making you a target, and we did plan for the worst case scenario-- of shooting you down-- but it was still somewhat frightening, to watch it all play out.”

“It was… frightenin’ to be a part of, too,” Yang replied, not ashamed to admit it. “I take it Blake told y’all about what happened when I had to shoot _her_ down?”

“Sun did,” Kali corrected. “Blake had… trouble, talking about everything that happened in Mantle. But that boy filled us in, and then some.”

“He does like to talk,” Yang said, smiling weakly as Kali’s thumb rubbed her shoulder. Unconsciously, she tilted her head toward the touch. It was almost enough to lull her back to sleep. Was this what maternal touch was supposed to feel like?

“He said that you played a part in convincing Blake to leave the White Fang,” Kali remarked. Yang shook her head.

“She left on her own,” Yang said firmly. “That was all her.”

“But you helped show her that violence isn’t the only answer,” Kali reminded her. “That maybe Adam was wrong.”

“It was still her decision to leave ‘em, though. She was already a good person. It was just… bein’ in Mantle finally gave her that last push in the right direction.”

“I know she has a good heart,” Kali said quietly. “But it’d been _years_ since we last saw her. She stayed with the Fang after we left it, and for all those years, we feared the worst. We never met Adam in person, but the things we heard… we feared for her life.”

“With good reason,” Yang said with a scowl. It was hard to forget that fact, with her whole body throbbing the way it did. “But she did good. She was… so brave.”

She didn’t mean for her voice to crack the way it did. Too many memories were bubbling up, ones she’d tried so hard to not think about during her months away from Blake. It was safe to remember them again, but she hadn’t anticipated the renewed emotions they came with.

Tentatively, Kali reached her hand to Yang’s hair. Yang held her breath. Usually, she wouldn’t have tolerated a near-stranger touching her hair, but there had been something so kind in Kali’s touch that made Yang trust it implicitly. This was Blake’s mother, with those same golden eyes and that same gentleness. Any tension in her body trickled away as Kali began to stroke her hair.

“We’re _all_ glad that you’re okay,” Kali said softly. “You’ve been on all of our minds, most of all Blake’s.”

“And she’s been on my mind,” Yang murmured. “Always.”

Yang was unsure how much time passed, laying there on the couch beneath the blanket, Kali continuously running her fingers through her hair. Distant memories of Summer flitted across her mind, memories so old that Yang might have dreamed them up.

She could admit that it felt nice.

But even this had to end. Kali pulled her hand back, offering Yang a smile and excused herself with a pat on her shoulder.

“I need to get back to the kitchen,” she said. “I’m just… glad I could finally meet you. Not with a noose around your neck, anyway.”

Yang chuckled, rolling her shoulders slowly so as not to pull at her abdomen. “I’m glad I could meet you, too,” she replied earnestly. She paused. “And… thanks.”

Somehow, despite her renewed relaxation, Yang couldn’t manage to drift off to sleep again. She spent a few seconds trying to hear the conversation in the other room, but gave up quickly. Her hearing would never be as good as a Faunus’, and the others would fill her in afterward on what they talked about. Besides, it was no longer her job to plan out any of these things. She was no longer the mayor.

And yet… she wished she could do _something_ rather than lay on the couch. She considered for a moment, then made up her mind. Nothing was stopping her from joining them in the dining room at all.

Yang yanked the blanket off and suppressed a groan of pain as she righted herself, pushing herself up with her one arm. The motion dislodged the pillows around her, sending a couple of them to the floor. She didn’t pause to pick them up. She just rose, grunting a little, and hobbled toward the dining room, feeling satisfied. She’d forgotten how good it felt, to make a decision and follow through with it.

She hadn’t done enough of that lately.

Several people were gathered around the dining table, and for a moment, none of them seemed to see her standing in the doorway. Blake and Kali had squeezed close together, making room for the hulking, black-bearded man on Kali’s other side. His eyes were gold, glinting with fierce intelligence as they surveyed the people around the table. Based on his close proximity to Kali and the way his hand covered one of hers, he could only have been Ghira Belladonna. Yang had a belated wish that Blake had given her at least a little warning about his size.

In addition to the Belladonnas, there were a handful of other people. Yang recognized Sun, looking as cheerful as ever, if a little more tanned. His long monkey tail twitched happily behind him as he gestured wildly to the rest of them. A few of the councilmen had somehow fit themselves into the room, listening attentively.

Weiss was one of the only humans present; she was also the one who first noticed Yang standing awkwardly in the doorway. She looked up, frowning, one white eyebrow furrowing over her monocle.

“What are _you_ doing up?” she demanded. All chatter stopped as everyone turned to look at her. Yang could feel her cheeks heating.

“Yang?” Blake asked, surprised. “You okay?”

“So _you’re_ Yang,” Ghira said contemplatively in his calm, bass voice. And then, he smiled at her. “How are you feeling?”

Yang was already sick of the question, but he’d asked it so kindly that she couldn’t bring herself to feel annoyed. She returned the smile. “I’m doin’ okay. I mean, I’ve been better, but--”

“You should be resting,” Weiss reminded her sharply.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t stand the thought of y’all havin’ fun without me,” she said, looking around for an empty chair. There were none, though Ghira stood, gesturing to his.

“I’ll go find another,” he told her. “Please, sit.”

“You really should be laying down,” Blake scolded as Yang sat beside her. They were close enough to touch, and Yang leaned against her.

“I’m the sheriff. If y’all are discussin’ the town’s safety, I oughta be here.”

“But--”

“I’m not gonna argue,” Yang interrupted, an edge to her voice. “I’m hurt, not dead.”

She could tell she wasn’t pleased, but Blake schooled her expression into something neutral as she nodded. “Fine.”

“Hey!” Sun said in a loud whisper, grinning at her. “Good to see ya!”

“Hey.” His smile was contagious, and Yang found hers growing again. “You too.”

Ghira returned shortly with a small stool, and he looked humorously out of place as he sat down on it. It made an unhealthy _creak_, and several of them looked over at him in alarm. More than one of the other Faunus leapt up to offer their own chairs to him, but Ghira shook his head with amusement.

“No, no, I’m fine,” he said with a wave of his hand. He adjusted, and the stool creaked again. “Let’s get Yang up to speed. Yang, I’m Ghira Belladonna. Blake’s father.”

“I… sorta figured,” Yang replied with a halting laugh. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Only good things, I hope.”

To this, Ghira let out a booming laugh, and Yang felt relieved. He may have looked intimidating, even on his little stool, but at least he was pleasant.

“I was just catchin’ the council up on what we’ve been up to,” Sun explained, grabbing his mug off the table with his tail. “How much’ve you heard, Yang?”

“Only what Blake told me. You’ve been tryin’ to take back the White Fang?”

“Essentially, yes,” Ghira said with a sharp nod. “We’ve had our work cut out for us, but it seems some of the tactics favored by the High Leader Adam Taurus have been making our kind uneasy.”

“The massacre on that autotrain last year, the destruction of homesteads, the murder of Sienna Khan,” a ram-horned Faunus man went on, ticking each item off on his fingers. “The White Fang was created to _help_ the Faunus, not actively fight humans, let alone each other. This isn’t the way to show the world our humanity.”

“Which is why we’re trying to go back to our roots,” Ghira agreed. He drummed his nails on the tabletop; the nails were long and sharp, and when he stopped tapping them, Yang watched them retract like a cat’s claws. “Places like Vale-- and even this town-- prove that change _is_ possible without violence. That humans and Faunus can live side-by-side, as equals.”

“All Adam wanted was to destroy humans,” Blake said. Her golden eyes glittered, a beautiful spark of determination there. “He wanted to crush the human race into the ground.”

“Do y’all know where he is?” Yang asked, straightening. She drew in a pained, jagged breath with her shift of position. Ghira shook his head.

“We’ve heard nothing,” he replied.

“We did send runners to their base camp, to see if he may have gone back there,” Blake added. “But no one’s sure where he really went.”

“Bastard,” Yang hissed. Many people nodded, including Blake.

“He has few friends left among the Fang, if any,” a young woman said. Her skin was dark and freckled, and at first, Yang had thought she was human. Then the freckles flared red as the woman’s eyes narrowed with anger, and Yang’s eyebrows shot up. “He abandoned his followers. In the Fang, that woulda been considered unforgivable. If he shows his face ‘round here again… he’ll be in for a world of hurt.”

Yang nodded, satisfied. He would turn up eventually, and when he did, the town would be ready.

“Already, this town has defied the odds,” Ghira said, inclining his head respectfully. “Just think of what Mantle used to be. A mining town, built on the backs of Faunus. A symbol of hate, a city Adam tried to burn to the ground.”

“But he failed,” Blake said, rising from her seat. “This town he tried to burn, it rose from the ashes. It _overcame _the violence that tried to destroy it. This town is proof that when given the chance, humans and Faunus can coexist in peace. They can work together, grow together… and love together.” Blake shot a quick glance at Yang. Her gaze was so full of love and adoration that Yang couldn’t help but smile. “The towns around us will see that Mantle-- or whatever this town is named-- will be a symbol. That equality and peace aren’t out of reach. That there’s a future for us. Together.”

Yang had no idea when she’d developed such a commanding presence. She was slightly in awe, and more than a little proud.

“This town has the potential to be a beacon of hope for all of Remnant, for both humans and Faunus alike,” Ghira said. “Given enough time, and enough encouragement, I believe the rest of the world will learn from this. This town will show the world how the future can look.”

Blake sat back down, and Yang leaned against her again. “You’re gettin’ good at this,” she murmured. “You really _did_ take back the Fang, huh?”

“Not on my own,” Blake replied, reaching across Yang’s lap to take her hand. She squeezed it. “I had a lot of help. And I always figured, if I could be just half the leader you were… then I was doing something right.”

“And look at you now.” Yang squeezed her hand back. “Better than I ever was.”

“I’m not--”

“I was a shitty mayor, Blake,” Yang said bluntly. “I always knew that I wasn’t cut out for politics. But you… you’re pretty incredible.”

Her blush was so cute, the way it darkened her cheeks. Yang tilted her head, bringing their lips together in the briefest kiss.

“I love you,” she whispered, knowing she couldn’t draw out too much affection in the middle of a meeting. The corners of Blake’s mouth twitched in a smile.

“I love you, too,” she replied, her expression soft. Yang could _see_ the love in her eyes, could feel it in the warmth rolling through her body.

With that love, Yang could feel complete.

\--

The next several days crawled by. As much as Yang hated to admit it, she wasn’t doing her body any favors by attempting to return to work. Just managing the stairs was a chore, so she spent most of her days on the couch rather than trekking up and down to her bedroom.

It helped that she had a steady stream of visitors to keep her occupied. Many well-wishers dropped in bearing meals and baked goods, which took some of the stress off of Pyrrha and Kali. With so many people both living in the house and dropping in for meetings with the Belladonnas, there were a lot more people to feed, and the kitchen was always a flurry of activity.

But even with visitors, Yang was frustrated with her restrictions. In some ways, this was harder than adjusting to life with one arm. Back then, she had no desire to do anything. Now, all she wanted to do was return to her job and her people, but the bruises and broken rib made it too difficult to do anything strenuous.

So, whenever she wasn’t listening in on meetings with the White Fang or the town council, she read. Blake had somehow talked a few people around town into lending her books to help Yang cope with her boredom. Many of the books were somewhat dry-- Yang had never been a fan of classic literature-- but she did lose herself in _The Man With Two Souls_.

“That’s one of my favorites,” Blake had told her when she gave it to Yang. Her eyes twinkled. “I’m surprised I found a copy here. It’s not very well-known. I’m so glad you like it.”

“You always did have good taste in books,” Yang teased.

“And watching you read is much better than listening to you whine about being bored,” Blake replied with a small smile.

“‘Scuse me, Belladonna, I haven’t been _whinin’_.”

Even as she said this, Yang was holding back laughter. It was remarkable how quickly they’d fallen back into lockstep, their familiar banter and teasing that Yang had never expected to share again with Blake.

She’d missed it all so much.

It wasn’t just the banter that came back easily. As much as Yang tried to hold back, to protect herself, she slipped comfortably into the simple intimacies she’d once shared with Blake. The long hugs, the easy ways they cuddled against each other under the blankets, the quiet comfort of the other’s presence. Every morning, and every night, it was Blake who helped Yang up and down the stairs, and helping with the little things that Yang was still too sore to do on her own.

“I’m sorry y’all came all the way back here just to baby me,” Yang told her one night as she helped Yang get ready for bed. Twisting around to take her shirt off was still painful, and she was grateful for Blake’s assistance. “Bet this wasn’t what you were expectin’ to do, especially on top of everything else you’re doin’.”

“I really don’t mind,” Blake said reassuringly, setting Yang’s shirt down on the bed. “I’m glad I can help at all..”

“You’re already doin’ so much. Meanwhile, I can’t even put my own clothes on.”

“Hush.” Blake smiled warmly, unlatching Yang’s bra and slipping the straps over her shoulders. “There’s no shame in getting nearly killed.”

Yang grunted, setting her bra to the side. Unclothed, she took a moment to appraise her flesh. Most of the bruises were fading, but it meant most of her abdomen was covered in sickly greens and yellows. Not her best look, but Blake never looked sickened by it.

She never had, Yang remembered. She remembered the night of their first kiss, when Blake had treated her wounds. She’d gotten bruised that night, too, but Blake had never looked away.

Blake held the nightshirt open for her, and Yang ducked her head in. She was able to pull the rest on by herself, shoving her bruised arm through the sleeve.

“There’s… something I should probably tell you,” Blake said quietly after a moment, pulling the blankets back for Yang to slide under.

“Bad news?” Yang asked, frowning as she leaned back against the headboard.

“You could say that.” Blake’s smile was humorless as she walked back toward the dresser. Her gunbelt had already been set atop it, so she began to strip off the rest of her clothes, her back to Yang. “It’s not common knowledge yet-- once the news is out, it might cause a bit of a panic. But I wanted you to know.”

Blake pulled the nightshirt over her head, then turned to face Yang. The shadows under her eyes looked like they had grown darker, and though it may have been just a trick of the light, Yang knew better. Blake wasn’t sleeping as much as she used to, and something heavy was on her mind.

“The scouts we sent to the White Fang’s base camp… came back tonight,” she said slowly. Ice cold fear shot through Yang’s body.

“Are they… okay?”

“Oh! Yeah, the scouts are fine.”

Yang breathed a sigh of relief. She’d half-expected Blake to tell her that their heads had been delivered to their doorstep, much like Sienna’s.

“But the base camp… isn’t.” Blake sank into the bed beside Yang, shoulders slumping. She looked exhausted, haunted by guilt.

“What happened?” Yang asked softly. Blake had taken to sleeping on the left side of the bed, which made it much easier for Yang to slip an arm under her waist. Blake leaned against her, always ensuring that she didn’t jar Yang’s ribs too much.

“They were all dead.”

“What?!” Yang’s eyes widened with horror. Blake nodded, looking defeated.

“There weren’t many people left in the base camp, but the ones who were…” Blake gulped, and Yang tightened her hold on her. “I just… I don’t understand. Why would he kill all those people? He _cared_ about the Faunus. But now… he’s just killing our people for sport, and I don’t _understand_.”

“Shhh.” Blake was trembling slightly against her, and Yang wished she had better words to comfort her with. “That’s not on you, baby.”

“I know.” Blake drew in a deep breath, then let out a stuttery exhale. “It’s just… he didn’t used to be this way. Back when he first joined up with the Fang, he _cared_ about the people he worked with. He would have protected these people with his life. And now…”

“And now he’s lost it.” Yang ran her hand along Blake’s spine, slowly. “He’s already shown you his true colors, Blake. You knew what he’s capable of.”

“I just… didn’t think he’d _kill_ them. They weren’t even there when everything happened in town. They wouldn’t have even _known_.”

“A monster doesn’t need a reason to do the things it does,” Yang said softly. “That’s part of what makes Grimm so dangerous. They don’t need a motive to kill. It’s just a part of their nature.”

“It wasn’t always his nature.” Blake shook her head sadly. “He was always troubled. But I thought I knew him. That he was a good person, deep down.”

“Even when he was hurtin’ you? Before you moved here?”

“He always had our best interests at heart. Or, at least, I thought he did.” She didn’t meet Yang’s eyes.. “I always figured… that maybe I should’ve just been more careful. That anything he did to me was… justified. I knew he’d been through so _much_ in his life, so I was always ready to make excuses for him. It was easier, to blame myself. It was like… I couldn’t control what happened to him, but I could control how _I_ was with him. So if I made a mistake, it was on me. Because I should’ve known better.”

“Oh, baby,” Yang murmured, heart aching.

“But now… after everything he’s done…” Blake clenched her jaw, and finally looked up at Yang. There were no tears in her eyes, only harsh conviction. “I know that’s not true. Everyone he’s hurt, or killed… none of that was my fault, and I know that now. He _is_ a monster, and everything that’s happened is on _him_.”

“I know, baby,” Yang murmured. “I know.”

At least Blake recognized who was truly at fault; Yang was proud that she wasn’t blaming herself for what happened at the base camp. Yang was quite familiar with what that guilt was like. She had spent so long blaming herself for all that had befallen Mantle, so she knew well what an easy trap self-blame could be.

Carefully, they lowered themselves into bed, maneuvering their limbs gingerly to avoid hitting Yang’s body too suddenly. Blake snuggled up close to her, though her breathing was still a little faster than normal.

“You gonna be okay?” Yang asked quietly. Blake nodded slowly.

“Yeah. It’s just… exhausting to think about.”

“Yeah.” Yang brushed a kiss against her lips. “Which means you really oughta sleep.”

“I…” Blake flushed, ears pinning back with embarrassment. “I know I should. I just… I guess I’ve been having trouble with that lately.”

“How come, love?” Yang asked gently, sliding her hand to cup Blake’s head. Her hair was soft beneath her fingers. “You haven’t been sleepin’ much at all, have you?”

Blake shook her head, her long hair spilling out over the pillow. “It’s so hard to fall asleep these days,” she admitted softly. “After Mantle burned down… it was like I was having nightmares every night.”

Oh, this was something Yang could relate to all too well. She eased Blake’s head closer, and instinctively, Blake buried her face in the crook of her neck. Her breath was warm, and goosebumps ran down Yang’s back.

“Do you still get them?”

“A little, but since I’ve been back… they haven’t been too bad.” Blake nuzzled her face against Yang’s skin, and the simple contact felt so comfortable and good that Yang almost forgot about her own bad dreams. “No, lately it’s just… there’s so much I have to think about, and worry over, and do… and then, I start thinking about the past, and all the things I wish I could change, and how my mistakes are affecting everything that’s happening now… There’s so much, and I just can’t get my brain to stop _thinking_ long enough to fall asleep.”

“Is it anything I can help with?”

“I don’t really know.” Blake took a deep breath as Yang began to stroke her hair. “I always end up falling asleep eventually. It just… takes a while.”

Yang thought for a moment, her fingers finding a steady rhythm in Blake’s hair. How many times in the past had they helped each other fall asleep? Just being with each other had been so calming, and it had been so easy to find sleep in each other’s arms. Maybe Yang could help her once more.

“Would it help if you… told me about it?” Yang asked uncertainly.

“What do you mean?” Blake looked up, their faces so close.

“If you… tell me what you’re thinkin’, as you’re thinkin’ it… and just, say it out loud to me… would that work? Like, lancin’ a boil, only this time, the boil is your brain.”

“That sounds awful,” Blake replied, though the analogy was enough to make her smile.

“Worth a shot though, right?” Yang asked with a grin. Blake’s eyes darted down.

“A lot of it is… kinda stupid to say aloud,” Blake said, her ears flattening a little with embarrassment. 

“If it’s somethin’ that’s worryin’ you, it ain’t stupid,” Yang replied, giving her a light peck on the forehead. “Really.”

For a long moment, Blake was silent, but Yang could almost see the gears turning in her brain as she thought about what to say. Yang gave her the time; there was no rush, and she was content enough to hold her. She knew how hard it could be to open up.

“I never intended… to lead the White Fang,” Blake said at last. “It was never my plan, when I went back to see my parents. All I wanted to do was… I don’t know. Gather my thoughts. Try to figure out what I should do. I was so lost, Yang. I… I didn’t know what to do without you, and then Adam started sending people after me… I didn’t have a choice. I had to fight back, and just by fighting back, I was fighting for _equality_, against everything Adam ever preached. I had to show them that humans aren’t something to be destroyed. That humans can be _good_.”

“And it looks like you got through to them,” Yang replied encouragingly, and Blake shrugged.

“Even with my parents helping, it’s been so… exhausting. So many Faunus have been wronged by humans, and have every right to be suspicious. Who am I to tell them that they can’t hold onto that hate?”

“You’re doin’ the best you can.”

“I know, but sometimes… it just doesn’t feel like it’s enough,” Blake said bitterly. She wriggled as close as she could get, curling her legs up. There was a twinge of pain in Yang’s ribs, but she ignored it. Blake’s closeness was more important than pain. “Even now, coming back here after all this time… it _still_ doesn’t feel like I’ve done enough to help you all here. And all I want to do… is just make it right. With this town. With you. God, when I saw Adam drag you to the gallows…”

She was shaking again, and Yang pressed her lips to her forehead again in an attempt to steady her.

“You’re here now. You’re here, and I’m okay,” she murmured. “Every time you think of that… open your eyes and look at me. Wake me up if you have to. I don’t want you to ever get stuck thinkin’ about that, okay? Or any other bad thing that happened to us. Because that’s all over now, and we’re together here. And I will _always_ be there for you.”

“And I’m not going anywhere,” Blake replied, voice barely more than a whisper. “Not again.”

“We’ll be okay,” Yang said. She kissed her again, and she could taste salty tears on Blake’s lips. “I love you, Blake. We’ll be okay.”

It still took Blake a long time to fall asleep, and Yang kept herself awake with her. She listened patiently as Blake spoke haltingly about her worries, the many fears on her mind. Yang broke each worry up with kisses and whispered reassurances, caressing her hair.

Blake wouldn’t leave again, Yang reminded herself as she closed her eyes. Blake’s chest rose and fell steadily in sleep; her face was so much more peaceful now than it was when she was awake. Cradled against Yang’s body, it was so easy to believe Blake wouldn’t run again.

But it didn’t stop the uncomfortable gnawing of worry in her gut, and already, she was bracing for history to repeat itself. That was the way the world worked, wasn’t it? It wasn’t worth it to grow connections with people when Yang knew they weren’t going to last. She’d learned that lesson when she was just a child, when Raven left and Summer died. After that, family and friends flitted in and out of her life, chasing cattle and Grimm and dreams. Yang had been satisfied with her transient lifestyle; not getting attached meant that she wouldn’t get hurt again.

Blake had been the exception. Yang had gotten close to her, and suffered the consequences when she’d run. There was no greater pain than the abandonment of someone she loved. It was pain she never wanted to feel again, or to even _risk_ feeling again.

And yet…

Yang kissed the top of Blake’s head, nestling her face into that soft dark hair. Despite that pain, she still didn’t want to let Blake go. Even if Blake ran away tomorrow, they were together that night. They were together for _now_. Yang was opening herself to the possibility of heartbreak by letting her back in, and found that she didn’t regret her choice. All that mattered was that, for this moment, they were happy, they were in love, and they were together.

Maybe that was what love was, in the end. Giving every part of herself to someone, knowing very well that it could all end in a heartbeat, knowing the suffering it could mean, and still not regretting that it was there.

Yang closed her eyes, finally letting sleep claim her.

Love was worth it.

\--

Just as Blake had predicted, the news about the massacre at the White Fang base camp didn’t go over well with the townsfolk. There was an uproar among Adam’s former followers, and several left immediately to go see what was left of the camp, as if they didn’t believe Blake’s scouts. Many of them had friends, or even family, at the base camp, and many were hopeful that some of them had escaped into the desert when Adam’s killings began. 

Even for those who weren’t affected directly by the massacre, there was fear and confusion, enough so that Robyn’s team took down several Grimm outside of town. But Yang could understand the concern: if Adam had managed to single-handedly murder so many of his own people, what did it mean for the people in town?

“They were caught off-guard,” Yang assured the crowd at an impromptu town meeting. “They had no idea what he was gonna do. But _we _do.”

This was her first day back at work, and though she still bore bruises and was constantly mindful of her broken ribs, she had to put her peoples’ minds at ease. She knew that her appearance would help boost morale, once the town saw that their sheriff was still in one piece. She was grateful that someone had thought to set chairs onto the old train platform that they were using as a makeshift stage; standing for too long would cause her abdomen to ache, and it usually made her overly aware of the discomfort of her breathing.

“Just like we were prepared for the other day?” someone demanded. 

“Well, none of y’all got hurt,” Yang reminded them. She allowed herself a smile. “Except me, but I sorta figured I would.”

Beside her, Blake huffed, and Yang pressed her hand against her lower back reassuringly. Blake seemed to have a little more energy that afternoon; she’d slept a little better that night than she had since she’d been back. She sat alert, ready to interject if the need called for it.

“It was _luck_ that the Belladonna group was here, or we mighta all been killed!” the person insisted.

“Well, did you have any better ideas?” Yang asked tiredly.

“We were all under the distinct impression that the White Fang would not harm the Faunus townsfolk,” Councilman Bogg reminded them. “There were plans to smuggle out the humans if the need arose.”

“Taurus woulda killed Faunus, anyway,” someone else remarked bitterly. “You saw how he pulled a gun on Caraway’s boy.”

Yang grimaced and nodded at the reminder. No one had expected Adam to threaten a Faunus child.

“Which is why we need to formulate a plan to capture Taurus and bring him to justice,” Ghira said, his deep voice booming over the mixed crowd of humans and Faunus. “We will need to spread the word to all the homesteads, and even to the cities, that he is to be apprehended, dead or alive.”

The crowd murmured in assent.

“I’ll get the posters printed,” Weiss offered, raising a polite hand. Bogg looked over to her and gave a sharp nod.

“We’ll need to hang them around town, for those who don’t know what he looks like. It would be wise to send copies to Argus and Atlas, as well as the smaller towns.” Bogg’s moth wings fluttered, catching a hint of hot desert wind. “We’ll need all eyes peeled for him, from here to Atlas and beyond.”

Yang and Blake exchanged a doubtful look. They both knew that Adam wouldn’t stray far. He was a man hell-bent on revenge, and even if he did leave the desert, it would only be a matter of time before he returned.

He wasn’t finished with the town and the White Fang, and he especially wasn’t finished with Blake and Yang.

Yang was relieved, at least, that she didn’t have to provide much input during the meeting. For the most part, all she was responsible for was assuring the nervous crowd that she was coming up with a plan to keep the townsfolk safe. The trickier political aspects-- trying to soothe relations between Adam’s former followers and the human townsfolk, discussing law, organizing housing for the town’s new inhabitants-- was left for the Faunus council members and Blake’s new Fang to manage. She was just an instrument now, not the player, and Yang couldn’t have been happier.

When the town meeting was adjourned, Blake moved to help Yang rise out of her chair.

“I got it,” Yang said breezily, slowly pushing herself up. It still hurt, but not enough to keep her from getting up on her own. “I gotta start doin’ things by myself again.”

“Just don’t overdo it,” Blake warned her, slipping an arm around Yang’s waist. “The more you stress out your ribs, the longer it’ll take to heal.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yang wrinkled her nose. “Heard that one before.”

Blake chuckled, then leaned her head against Yang’s shoulder. Yang couldn’t wrap her right arm around her anymore, but she did give her a quick kiss on the top of her head. 

“Y’all did good!” Ruby called to them, running up. There were a few people trying to get Yang’s attention, but Ruby pushed her way through. Sister privileges, Yang thought fondly.

Just short of them, Ruby stopped abruptly, looking back and forth from Blake to Yang. Her eyes lowered to their hips, where they both wore their gunbelts. Each of Summer’s guns were holstered on their opposite sides.

“Y’all look like bookends,” Ruby pointed out. “You even _dress_ the same now.”

She had a point there. Blake dressed in pants more than skirts these days; pants were more practical for a gunslinger, and Yang appreciated the way they accentuated Blake’s curves. Unlike Yang, however, Blake didn’t wear a bandana around her neck, which revealed a tempting stretch of bronze skin. Aside from that, and Yang's sheriff star, their outfits were nearly identical.

“Consider it the gunslinger uniform,” Blake teased, rubbing Yang’s back.

“I still think it’s so nice that y’all both have one of Mom’s guns,” Ruby told them with a bright smile. “There’s somethin’ poetic about it, y’know?”

“She’s a better fit for that gun than I am anymore,” Yang reminded her. Ruby nodded her agreement.

“And gunslingin’ ain’t really my thing, so it’s better the gun goes to someone who could do it justice. When’re you gonna show us your moves, Blake?” Ruby mimed a quickdraw, aiming finger guns at both of them. “Gods, I wish I coulda seen you shoot Yang down.”

“You really wish you coulda seen me hung?” Yang asked with a raised eyebrow. Blake snorted, and Ruby’s draw dropped in dramatic indignance.

“You _know_ what I mean!”

“Gods, can you believe my own flesh ‘n blood sister wants to see me _hung_?!” Yang demanded of Weiss, who had approached them with an impassive stare. 

“I’m not even gonna ask,” she said with a sigh. “I do need to borrow Blake, though. Ren said he’d draw up the picture for Adam’s _Wanted _poster, and I want to make sure we get all the details right.”

“Of course.” Blake sobered immediately, then gave Yang a quick kiss. “You able to get home okay?”

“Last I checked, my legs still work, so I think I’ll make it.”

Blake chuckled, the sound low and sultry, as she pulled away. She gave Yang’s shoulder one last squeeze. “Then I’ll see you for dinner tonight.”

“Don’t be late, Belladonna.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Xiao Long.”

“_Ugh_,” Ruby groaned, shooting them both disgusted glares. Yet behind it, in those silver eyes, Yang saw something more than sisterly repulsion: she was _happy_ for them. “Y’all didn’t waste any time gettin’ gross again, huh?”

“Well…” Yang began, a slow grin spreading, but Ruby interrupted her by clamping her hands over her ears.

“Ah, actually, I don’t wanna hear it!”

“And neither do I,” Weiss said, stone-faced, but then, she cracked a smile. “I’ve missed this. The four of us, together.”

“So have I,” Blake said, softening. She turned to Weiss, looping her arms around her in a hug. Weiss smiled, returning it with a happiness Yang had never seen when she had been living with her father. So much had changed since then, and so much of it had truly been for the better.

Ruby joined in, throwing her arms around both of them and squeezing tightly. Yang hesitated, then leaned against their huddle, arm going around her sister’s back and leaning into Blake and Weiss.

For all the negativity that threatened their lives, it was strange, how much peace they could still find with each other.

After Weiss and Blake departed, it still took some time before Ruby and Yang could return home. So many people came up to Yang, ready with sympathy for her injuries and offers to help in any way they could.

Yang was touched by the attention, and didn’t want to just dismiss the people who spoke with her. As much as she just wanted to return home and rest, she couldn’t forget that these people had spoken up on her behalf when Adam tried to hang her. They’d argued against Adam and the White Fang, wanting to defend her. She couldn’t just rudely excuse herself.

Fortunately, Ruby noticed when Yang’s breathing began to get heavier, and she began to hold her hand against her abdomen. There were still so many people crowding her, eager for conversation, but Ruby held up a hand.

“Sorry, folks, but Yang’s been up all day and she really needs to get some rest!” she announced apologetically. “She’ll be around, though, and y’all’ll have plenty of time to catch up with her then!”

Yang was more wheezing than breathing by the time they got back to the house. She felt a stabbing pain every time she inhaled, and she knew she’d pushed herself too hard. She sank onto the couch, grasping her chest.

“Y’all right?” Ruby asked worriedly as Yang pulled her hat off, then yanked the bandana over her head.

“Yeah, I just-- I need a minute,” Yang grunted. She had to pause between words to take deep, painful breaths. “I shouldnt’a gotten so-- carried away talkin’ to people.”

“Yeah…” Ruby frowned, watching Yang lean back into the pillows. “Well, now I forbid you from workin’ the rest of the day.”

“A bit late-- for that, eh?” Yang asked, forcing a smile, “I already-- decided that.”

“Yeah, well… I’m gonna enforce it!”

Yang rolled her eyes, but conceded to Ruby’s doting attention as the afternoon dragged on. Surprisingly, it was just the two of them in the house. Yang figured the White Fang were making plans, or perhaps discussing Dust business with Weiss, but none of it was anything she could help with right then. 

It was a relief to step back from those responsibilities, to not have to worry about every little detail, but at the same time, she felt a twinge of guilt. Once, this had been her town, and everything had been her business. It felt strange to let go.

The sun was beginning to set by the time Blake came home. Yang looked up from her book, watching as Blake stepped into the living room, rolling her shoulders. She held several rolled-up posters under her arm, carefully tucked so they wouldn’t be crumpled.

“All set?” Yang asked cheerfully, meeting her eyes with a smile. Blake returned it, coming over to settle onto the couch beside her, setting her posters on the floor.

“I don’t think we’ll ever be _all set_, but it’s progress,” she said. “I’m pretty beat.”

“Then we can call it an early night, yeah?” Yang leaned in for a kiss, sinking into it hungrily. Blake curled her fingers around Yang’s side, a delicate, eager touch.

“I would love that,” she murmured against Yang’s lips.

After a few minutes, Yang pulled back, in love with the softness in Blake’s eyes. She could have looked into those eyes forever, lost in that glittering sea of gold. 

Blake was the one who broke the contact first, gesturing to the rolled-up papers she’d brought home.

“So… these are the posters,” she said, grabbing one and passing it to Yang. “Weiss is going to send some to Argus, and they’ll pass it on to the other towns.”

Yang unfurled it, staring down wordlessly at the familiar face.

_WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE_

_ADAM TAURUS_

_ARMED AND DANGEROUS_

There was information on his crimes, his affiliations, the reward for his capture. The most striking part was the portrait, the sketch of the bull-horned man and the mask he always wore. Even in a portrait, his smile was unsettling. Unconsciously, Yang shivered.

“Ren did a good job with the picture,” she remarked. Blake bit her lip, taking it back.

“He did,” she agreed quietly. Her grip on the poster tightened. “It’s just… so strange, finally seeing him on a _Wanted_ poster.”

“We’ll get him,” Yang promised. She reached for Blake’s wrist, wrapping her fingers around it. At the touch, Blake released her hold of the poster, letting it flutter to the ground before looking back up at Yang.

“I just need this all to end,” Blake replied softly, sadly.

“And it will.” Yang brushed her thumb against Blake’s pulse point, feeling the quick, nervous flutter in her wrist. “It’s okay to be scared, y’know. I’m scared, too. Scared he’ll hurt you. Hurt Weiss. Ruby. Anyone else in this town, really.”

“And _I’m_ scared he’ll hurt _you_.” Blake squeezed Yang’s hand like a lifeline. “He’s nearly killed you twice. If he _did_…”

“He’s all alone now, though,” Yang reminded her gently. “Before, he had the whole Fang at his disposal. Now, he’s just one man, up against two gunslingers.”

“Two gunslingers.” At least this earned a small smile out of Blake. “It’s… still hard to see myself as one.”

“But you are. You shot the rope that was hangin’ me, and not everyone can do somethin’ like that. That was incredible, Blake.”

“But will it be enough?” Blake asked, shooting a glance back down to the _Wanted_ poster.

Yang carefully pulled her hand from Blake’s, bringing it instead to her face. She cupped Blake’s cheek, making sure their eyes were locked. This wasn’t a time to doubt or second-guess. There was no room for any monsters in their minds, no room for shadows in their hearts.

They just needed to hold onto the light.

“It will,” Yang swore. “Together, we will always be enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW thank you so much Aziminil... I did a LOT of whining about this chapter lolol you're too good to me. I appreciate your patience BIG TIME.
> 
> Also THANK YOU [saigamiproject](https://twitter.com/saigamiproject) for your constant motivational pep talks!! You've been so encouraging and I am cry.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW in the beginning

“No, no, it’s more like this!” Yang spun her revolver in her hand, trying to go through the motions slowly so Blake could watch.

“That’s what I was _doing_!” Blake said, ears flattening in exasperation. She spun her own revolver in a messy twirl. It spun almost out of control, and it was only through luck that it didn’t go flying off her finger. “Like _that_.”

“Darlin’, you ain’t gonna impress a crowd with moves like that.” Yang demonstrated again. “You need to just relax a little more! Cut loose!”

“Easy for you to say,” Blake grumbled. “You’ve been doing this since you could walk.”

“Well, that might be a _bit_ of an exaggeration...”

As soon as Yang’s bruises had mostly faded, the two of them made sure to spend some time on the practice field every day. Yang had gotten lax on her drills, and Blake’s own skills needed a little refinement. Gone were the days of Yang teaching a nervous student; it became evident right away that Blake had gotten _good_. She could shoot using both hands and hit easy bullseyes. Her quickdraws, while not as graceful as Yang’s, were still admirable, and much better than a casual shooter.

The only area she _did_ struggle was with the fancy gunspinning that Yang made look so easy.

“You had that thing for months!” Yang commented with a laugh, nodding at Blake’s gun. “And you didn’t even _try_ to spin?”

“I was more worried about getting good at, y’know… actually shooting?” Blake attempted another spin of the revolver. It still looked sloppy, but her reflexes were too good to let her drop the gun. “I wasn’t thinking about trying to show off. Just to make sure I didn’t miss.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’ll train you up good,” Yang said, smiling. She holstered her own gun and approached Blake, touching her waist and turning her so that Blake’s ass pressed against her hips. Something in Yang’s stomach fluttered with thrill at the close contact; though Blake had been back for three weeks, neither of them had made the move toward anything too suggestive. Yang was becoming increasingly aware that they would need to fix that soon; her dormant passion was reawakening in Blake’s constant, steady presence.

Yang pulled her gun back out, lightly pinning Blake’s left arm when she brought her own arm up.

“Watch my hand carefully,” she instructed. She let the gun dangle off one finger, then swung it lightly, letting it rock back and forth like a pendulum.

“I got that part,” Blake commented grumpily.

“The gun’s heavy enough that it doesn’t need too much help with the actual spinnin’,” Yang told her. “It just needs a little push to get started.”

“I see…”

Yang spun the revolver a couple times, catching the grip easily. “Catchin’ it just right is the hard part. You just gotta practice it, and eventually, you’ll get the hang of it. You just can’t spin it too fast, or you won’t be able to catch it. Speed will come with time, and so will holsterin’ it right after a spin. Just start easy and you’ll be fine.”

Blake brought her gun back up. With both of their arms outstretched, in this position, Yang could believe that they truly were two parts of the same whole. The twin guns looked at home together, held by both of them together.

Casually, Blake let go of her gun, catching it on one long finger. Yang tried not to think too hard about the dexterity of those fingers; her neck was already sweating under her bandana.

Blake rocked the gun back and forth slowly, taking the time to register its weight before bringing it up in a slow spin. Jerkily, she caught the grip. It wasn’t the cleanest catch, but it was progress. Yang smiled. She pushed past Blake’s ponytail, finding the crook of her neck with her lips. She didn’t kiss it, instead hovering over the smooth skin.

“You did it,” she murmured. She felt Blake’s breath catch and noticed the slight shift as Blake tilted her head, giving Yang more access to her neck. “All it takes is a little practice, and you’ll be ready for your own gun show.”

“I’ll definitely keep at it,” Blake replied, her voice low. Yang finally obliged her with a slow, hungry kiss to her neck.

“Good girl,” she said softly. Blake’s whole body twitched.

Well, it was good to know some things didn’t change.

“D’you... wanna go home?” she asked, dotting her neck with a couple more kisses, and Blake gave a sharp nod.

“If you’re… feeling up to it. With your ribs, and all,” she said, her words coming out in a breathless rush. 

“Baby,” Yang replied with more calm than she felt, “I couldn’t feel _more _up to it.”

They reholstered their guns, and Yang was loath to let go of Blake, even for the short walk back to Weiss’s house. They didn’t run, but their walk was brisk. Yang kept Blake close, her hand never leaving her lower back as they made their way through the dusty streets. The sun burned strong, but it wasn’t just the sun that made Yang feel warm.

Yang’s ribs ached by the time they got back to the house, and she was a little out of breath, but in her present company, all of that was easy to ignore. Blake shut the door behind her and Yang pinned her against it immediately. Blake met her lips with her own, sinking into desperate kisses and muffled sighs. Yang’s tongue slipped into her mouth, her hand clutching Blake’s shirt, a fire stoking deep in her body.

It was a good thing that no one seemed to be home, that no one called out in greeting. The silence was encouraging, and Yang relished the taste and touch and scent and _all of it_. She’d forgotten how badly she could want someone, how badly she’d missed Blake’s body. The blood began to throb in Yang’s veins, spurring her forward. Her lips roamed across Blake’s jaw and down her neck, taking her time with the wet kisses she left on her skin. At the base of her neck, she paused to bite, and Blake let out a small moan.

“We should really… go upstairs,” she grunted as Yang shifted her pelvis against hers, beginning to grind against it.

“We should?”

“The last thing I need… is for my parents to see this,” Blake insisted, pushing Yang back a little. “For some reason, they like you right now. Don’t push it.”

Her face was flushed, and the small red mark on her neck was beginning to darken. She wriggled out of Yang’s grip to peek down the hallway, then breathed a sigh of relief.

“I guess that’s fair,” Yang said with a snort. She licked her lips as Blake grabbed her hand, tugging her along up the stairs, though she didn’t pull too hard. For all their desire, she knew better than to be rough when Yang’s ribs still required careful handling.

As soon as the bedroom door was closed behind them, though, all gentleness was lost. Yang kissed her again, bumping Blake against the dresser and leaning in as she kissed her harder and harder and harder. Blake moaned around her tongue, seizing Yang’s belt loops and pulling her even closer.

Yang grabbed Blake’s shirt, pulling it out from where it was tucked into her pants. She toyed with its hem, fully intending to enjoy every second of this. It had been so _long_ since she’d been able to touch Blake in this way, and her need bordered on desperation.

“I’ve missed you,” Yang grunted, popping open the lowest button. She slipped her hand underneath, simply wanting to feel the smooth skin of Blake’s abs. Blake made a strangled sound, pulling Yang’s own shirt out of her pants.

“Mmm,” was all she could say as Yang worked her way up the buttons. Before Blake could even shrug the shirt off, Yang’s hand slipped around, unlatching her bra with one hand. She didn’t wait for that to fully come off, either, before she lowered her head to kiss her way down Blake’s chest.

She slid her hand down to Blake’s pants, jerkily undoing the buttons. She was half-tempted to spin Blake around there on the dresser, to bend her over it and fuck her hard, but Yang stopped herself. She wouldn’t rush this; she would enjoy every agonizing second. She sucked a nipple into her mouth, and Blake pulled hard on her hair, her fingernails raking across Yang’s scalp.

“Fuck, _fuck_,” Blake gasped, her head falling backward. She reached up blindly to her own hair, pulling out the ponytail and shaking her hair loose. 

Yang pulled back, momentarily stunned by her bold, wild beauty. She was breathtaking, almost too gorgeous to be real, and in the wake of her glow, Yang suddenly felt inadequate. With her shirt off, she was too aware of the mangled stump of her right arm, the messy scars left by improvised cauterization. She swallowed heavily, pulling back slightly.

“Yang? What’s wrong?” Blake asked, concern flashing across her face.

It wasn’t like the stump was new to Blake. She’d seen it countless times during the weeks since they’d reunited, as she helped Yang get dressed or washed, but this was the first time Yang felt it for what it was: a disfigurement.

Yang glanced down, eyes finding focus on Blake’s hip. With her pants unbuttoned and hanging low, the scar there was apparent, a thick criss-cross of white tissue. Yang brushed her fingers over it. Blake hadn’t come out of that encounter unscathed, either.

They’d both been damaged.

“Sorry,” Yang said, smiling weakly, looking back up at her. “It’s nothin’.”

“I don’t believe that,” Blake replied evenly, straightening up a little. She covered Yang’s hand in hers, where it still rested atop her scar. She softened. “It’s okay, love. If this is too fast--”

“No!” Yang said quickly, feeling her cheeks heat up. “This ain’t too fast. It’s just…” She hesitated. How was she supposed to put into words how self-conscious she felt, or how the burden of her memories were trying to press against her mind once more?

Blake kissed her lightly, more reassurance than passion. “Just what?” she asked gently.

“It’s just… I don’t…” Yang sighed. “I know I’m not… like I used to be. And it… looks pretty gross, doesn’t it?”

“Yang,” Blake murmured. “I don’t care about how it looks.”

“I-- I know that, really,” Yang said, shaking her head. “You’ve seen it. You know how it looks. But… I dunno. Now that we’re finally… together, like this, it’s just… I’m just overthinkin’ it.”

“He really did a number on us, huh?” Blake asked with a sad smile. Yang let out a short laugh.

“I’ll say.”

“I don’t want you to stress over this.” Blake touched the gnarled scar over Yang’s stump. The skin was tender, and it still felt so wrong compared to how it used to be. Just the simple touch caused a strange, tingling sensation racing up the rest of her stump. “I’ve never stopped thinking you were beautiful, Yang. You’ve always _been _beautiful, and that’s something Adam never _could_ take from you.”

Yang leaned into her, sinking into the comfort of bare skin against bare skin. Blake slinked her arms around her waist, and Yang buried her face into Blake’s shoulder. 

“I love you,” she breathed. She ran her hand up and down Blake’s side, sending goosebumps racing across her flesh and hardening the nipples that were pressed against her. Yang kissed her shoulder, slowly creeping across to her neck.

It was Blake who guided them toward the bed, both of them unwilling to let go of the other. It didn’t take long to finish wriggling out of their pants, keeping their bodies as close as possible, neither wanting even an inch of separation between them.

Blake carefully rolled Yang onto her back, pushing herself up beside her in order to run her hand all over Yang’s body. Yang closed her eyes, her breathing coming out heavily as Blake switched to using her mouth, dragging her lips across her chest and abdomen. It was a gentler pace than Yang had started on the dresser, but somehow, this felt right.

Yang rolled her head, panting as Blake slid her hand across the insides of her thighs, fingernails scraping lightly.

“Blake, please…” Yang dug her nails into Blake’s back, writhing, trying to find the pressure of her fingers. At least Blake wasn’t cruel; her gaze was so soft when Yang reopened her eyes, and she brushed a kiss across Yang’s lips at the same time her fingers began to stroke.

It had been so long-- so _long_\-- since Yang had been so turned on. She could feel how wet she was, that she was already soaking the blanket beneath her. Blake’s fingers slid inside her, curling experimentally. Even after so much time apart, she still knew what she was doing, and it made Yang’s knees shake.

Yang had lost control over the sounds that spilled from her lips: Blake’s name, grunted curses, but more than that, the soft groans and wordless pleas. Yet through all of this, Yang couldn’t bring herself to close her eyes again. She felt so good that a part of her feared that if she closed them, Blake would disappear like a dream.

It was easier, instead, to focus on the love that lit behind Blake’s eyes.

Perhaps it was because it had been so long since she’d had one, but the building orgasm felt more intense than any she’d felt before. Her whole body shuddered and spasmed as Blake worked her fingers. She felt like she was _one_ with Blake; their connection had never felt so complete, and Yang felt it in her whole body, in her whole soul. Their gazes held the other steadily, even as Blake pressed a thumb to her clit _just_ hard enough.

Yang’s groan morphed into a cry as she convulsed around Blake’s fingers, her nails scratching across Blake’s back as the rest of her body quaked.

But it wasn’t all uncontrolled thunder; there was gentleness, in the way Blake kissed her neck as Yang’s body began to relax. She felt Blake map out her collarbone with her tongue and lips, the fingers slowly ease out from inside of her. Only then did Yang finally close her eyes, letting herself enjoy each sensation as she came down, the warmth of Blake’s breath on her breast, the hot tongue toying with her nipple almost in counterpoint with the pounding of Yang’s heart. It was all so soothing, and contentment washed over her.

“I love you so much,” Yang murmured, stroking Blake’s hair. Blake looked up, wearing a small smile.

“I love _you_,” Blake replied, bending low for a kiss. Yang ran her hands all over Blake’s body, pushing lightly to urge her to lay down beside her. Eyelashes fluttering, Blake did, stretching her arms over her head and onto the pillows.

Yang winced a little as she shifted slightly onto her side. Her ribs didn’t appreciate the way she turned her body, and she saw concern in Blake’s face.

“I’m good,” she said quickly, before Blake could ask. And then, Yang smiled. “More than good.”

She kissed Blake again, her blonde hair falling around them as Yang crept her hand slowly down Blake’s body. She stopped just short, to trace her fingernails across Blake’s skin, watching the way her body responded with quickening breath, and the very subtle rocking of her hips.

Yang’s fingers traced along her hip bone, pausing at her scar, feeling it out with her fingertips. Until now, Yang hadn’t been given the chance to truly _look_ at it. Blake had always seemed to distract her from it whenever they were undressed, leaving Yang little time to dwell on it. Carefully, Yang shifted onto her knees to move lower down Blake’s body, kissing her way down her torso until she stopped at the scar. She kissed it gently, as if her love could erase any bad emotions associated with it.

Adam didn’t need to own Blake’s scars. Yang could take them back and give them new meaning. She could help Blake reclaim them.

She continued on past the scar, following the crease of Blake’s thigh. Automatically, Blake spread her legs. When Yang looked back up at her, she felt the heat begin to regrow in her stomach. The image of Blake staring down at her over her own heaving chest, eyes wide and hungry, was almost too much.

Yang touched her lightly, but even that was enough to soak her fingers. Blake whimpered as Yang pulled them away.

“I’ve got a better idea,” she explained in a low voice, sucking her fingers into her mouth. She groaned around them. She had so missed the way Blake tasted. “Hold on a minute.”

With her sore ribs, Yang knew that she wouldn’t be able to lay on her stomach. Regretfully, she pushed herself up, scooting up in the bed. There was fight in Blake’s eyes, and she opened her mouth to protest, but closed it when Yang began to lay herself down on her back. Without even a word, Blake seemed to understand the intention completely.

The shuffle over Yang’s body was markedly unsexy, especially considering how Blake was careful not to put any pressure on Yang’s torso. However, both were too keyed up to care, only eager to get Blake over Yang’s mouth as quickly as she could. Blake grabbed the headboard, clutching it tightly with both hands and looking down at Yang desperately.

Somehow, Yang was able to restrain herself, to kiss Blake’s inner thighs tenderly. They were wet, practically dripping, and Yang was lost in a haze of her scent and taste.

“_Yang_,” Blake groaned, pushing against the headboard and trying to shift closer into Yang’s mouth. Her movement caused the headboard to rock and squeak a little, so Yang grabbed Blake’s thigh to hold on and bring her closer, nails digging in.

The air in the room was so _hot_, a combination of the desert climate and their own frenzy, and sweat began to feel sticky on Yang’s skin. Yet neither of them wanted to stop. Yang flattened her tongue against Blake’s cunt, letting out a choked moan of her own as Blake began to grind, her cum smearing across Yang’s jaw and cheeks.

Even in the midst of this, all Yang could think about was how good she wanted Blake to feel. It had been so long for both of them. All she wanted was to bring Blake to the edge, to watch her reach that peak, to be the one to give her that pleasure. It was a desire that was laced deep into her bones, into the veins of her heart.

Blake _was_ her heart.

Yang went slowly, not wanting to cheat Blake out of any sensation. She deserved better than that, she deserved to feel _good_ again-- both of them did, after so much time apart. Yang lapped at her slowly, teasing, sucking her clit and flicking it with her tongue, until Blake was vocalizing loudly, shaking, right _on_ the edge…

“Yang!” Blake gasped, the sound shrill. Her whole body spasmed. “I’m… Gods, I--”

“That’s it,” Yang breathed, her tongue beginning to ache around her words. “That’s it, baby.”

Blake stumbled into her orgasm with a sound that was half-gasp, half-sob, hunching over and gripping the headboard so hard that Yang was almost afraid that she’d break it. Yang dipped her tongue inside her again, feeling her shivers and spasms. Yang looked up at her, and found that Blake was already staring down at her, flushed and breathless.

She was utterly radiant.

Gracelessly, Blake managed to roll off, somehow avoiding Yang’s ribs as she did so. She flopped onto the bed with a grunt and curled against Yang’s body, still breathing heavily.

“Do I still got it?” Yang asked, grinning, half-heartedly wiping at her mouth. Blake let out a puff of laughter.

“Mmm,” she replied, reaching for Yang’s head. She combed her fingers through her hair and used it to tug herself closer. She kissed her, tongue lingering on Yang’s lips to taste herself. “You felt… so good.”

Yang propped herself up, wriggling them into a more comfortable position on the pillows before wrapping her arm around Blake’s waist. Her thumb stroked the curve of Blake’s hip absently. She leaned in to kiss Blake again, all urgency dissolved into the softer things: kisses, touches, breaths. Time stood still for them, and Yang was content to hover in that single, arrested moment, letting it encase them in peace.

“It’s good to be like this again,” Yang murmured, hand slowly sliding up and down Blake’s side. “Havin’ you here, like this.”

“And you’ve got me,” Blake said, maneuvering around Yang’s stump to nuzzle her shoulder. “As long as you’ll have me. Come hell or high water.”

“I think we already did the hell part,” Yang commented thoughtfully. “So maybe the _high water_ is what we gotta deal with next.”

“Ugh, I hope not.” Blake closed her eyes. “I didn’t plan for floods when I chose to live in a desert.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be _that_ kind of flood,” Yang said, casually rounding her hand to Blake’s stomach. Blake didn’t open her eyes, but her smile grew.

“Oh?”

“The way I see it, _high water_ is open to interpretation.”

Blake laughed, finally opening her eyes and tilting her head for a kiss. “Then by all means, show me yours.”

Yang smiled, but stalled her fingers low on Blake’s abs. She bit her lip. “I… haven’t done this in a while,” she warned, her cheeks warming with sudden embarrassment. “And before, I usually used my right hand. So, uh, it might take me a minute to get the hang of this part again.”

Blake’s expression softened, and she took Yang’s face in her hands, bringing her lips in for a firm kiss.

“Then take your time,” she said reassuringly. Her smile was sweet and serene. “Take all the time you need. Because I’ll have you know, that having you spend an extra few minutes touching me isn’t exactly a hardship.”

Finally, Yang laughed, kissing her again. “Smartass,” she muttered, hand sinking down.

Those _extra few minutes_ weren’t a hardship at all.

\--

If anyone noticed that Yang and Blake stayed in their bedroom more than usual over the next few days, no one said anything. There were no teasing remarks about the red marks on their necks, or any of the sounds that might have gotten through the walls.

Yang worried that things would get weird with Blake’s parents, who still slept in Winter’s room, but neither of them gave any indication that they knew what Yang was doing to their daughter in the other room.

“My dad sleeps like a dead man,” Blake said with a chuckle. She lay on her stomach, her face resting on the crook of her arm, Yang sitting up beside her. Lazily, Yang dragged a finger along Blake’s back, drawing invisible swirls and patterns onto her skin. “And neither of us are _that_ loud.”

“When nobody’s home, anyway,” Yang replied, a tad smugly. Blake certainly got loud when they knew no one else was in the house, and nothing boosted Yang’s ego more by listening to how well Blake enjoyed her touch. “And even if we were, your dad snores loud enough to cover it up.”

“That’s probably true.” Blake laughed, then buried her face in her arm, ears twitching. Yang traced down her spine and Blake’s back arched, making a low, pleased sound in the back of her throat.

It was moments like this, Yang thought, that she’d missed most of all. The softer moments between them, the quiet times they could just relish each other’s company, their words, their touch. When the door was closed and it was just the two of them in bed together, it was like the rest of the world could fade away.

But they couldn’t hide away forever, and they both had responsibilities to attend to. Each morning, as the desert sun shone through their windows and made the air hot, they’d somehow untangle themselves from each other to get dressed, then groggily start their day.

Much of their work days were spent away from each other; Yang’s duties as sheriff kept her busy, and seldom crossed paths with Blake’s White Fang meetings. With the increase of Fang members in town, Yang had expected to be needed more to settle disputes between the humans and newcomer Faunus. To her surprise, however, there was little conflict, even with the former members of Adam’s faction. It helped that the Faunus townsfolk were willing to iron out the process of integration; whenever there was confusion or misunderstanding, there was always someone willing to listen and explain.

It made Yang’s job easy. It was almost easier than it had been when she’d worked for Schnee. The easiness, however, only emphasized the only worry she _did_ have.

Adam was still out there, somewhere, and there was no sign of him at all.

“These posters must’ve made it to Vacuo by now,” Blake told her one afternoon, shaking her head. They stared at the _Wanted_ poster that hung outside Yang’s office. Yang almost wished that they hadn’t put one right where she’d have to walk past it several times a day. Every time she did, it was like he was staring at her, mocking her. “But I haven’t heard anything. Not so much as a sighting.”

For a brief moment, Yang’s mind broke away from herself, numbing the spasm of fear that tried to shoot through her body. There were too many unknowns. Reassuringly, Blake rubbed the small of her back, bringing her back to life. She’d gotten good at noticing when Yang disconnected.

“He’ll turn up,” Yang said, her mouth dry, wishing she felt as confident as she spoke. “We’ll figure out where he is.”

“I know,” Blake said softly.

“And we’ll take him down.”

“I know.”

But until then, the town continued on as it always had.

There were meetings and dances, plans to make and things to do. A month after Blake’s return, she and Yang held a celebratory shooting demonstration. It was _invigorating_, shooting with a partner. Blake was good, hitting bullseyes like they were nothing, firing different kinds of Dust bullets, showing off her quick-draws, and even managing a bit of basic gunspinning. Yang dreamed of the day when they’d be able to twirl and toss the guns to each other, shooting in tandem and accomplishing feats only possible with two trick shooters. Gone were the days of Yang’s solo demonstrations. This was much better.

Briefly, Yang’s mind flashed to another day long ago, when she’d demonstrated her skills on this very field, when Blake had watched her for the first time.

Oh, how far they’d come.

She nodded to Blake, who strolled up to the fenceline, plucking a coin from the waiting hand of a Faunus child. She winked at them, then brought the coin back to Yang.

“Ready!” Yang called, stepping back. Blake flicked the coin high into the air and Yang fired, hitting it with a harsh _ping_. The crowd whooped and cheered as the coin ricocheted up, then dropped into the dirt. Yang grinned wildly, holstering her gun as Blake made her way back to her. “Someday, you and me are gonna shoot coins at the same time. Or maybe even the same coin.”

“Sounds like I’m gonna need some more practice.” Blake’s eyes twinkled mischievously as she swiped Yang’s hat off her head.

“_Practice_, huh?” Yang asked with a smirk and Blake jammed the hat onto her own head. “Is that what we call it now?”

“I’m talking about _shooting_.”

“Right, right,” Yang said in as serious a tone as she could manage, though her widening grin betrayed her. “Well, I’m sure it won’t take you long. You’re a quick study.”

“Or maybe I just had a good teacher.” Blake chuckled. “The _best_ teacher, maybe.”

“Yeah, well-- oh!” Yang’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as Blake seized the bandana around Yang’s neck, pulling her close. She paused, meeting Yang’s eyes wickedly before kissing her hard, there on the practice field.

A few of the children in the crowd made gagging noises, and some of the adults catcalled. Yang made to raise a hand to flip them all off, but Blake caught her wrist.

“The children,” she scolded, releasing both bandana and wrist. Yang laughed, yanking her hat back off Blake’s head.

“Then don’t tempt me.” They both turned back to the crowd, and Yang gestured toward the area where the coin had vanished. Then, in a louder voice, she yelled, “Come and get it, kids!”

A small flock of children jumped over the fence and slid between the rails, each determined to be the first one to find the warped coin. Yang laughed, shoving herself against Blake’s side, the stump of her arm poking into her back.

“They’re so sweet,” Blake remarked fondly, tilting her head onto Yang’s shoulder.

“They are.”

“And who knows,” she added teasingly. “Maybe someday, it’ll be our kids looking for that coin.”

“Nah.” Yang smirked as she rolled her head down to look at her. “Our kids will be the ones shooting the coin in the first place.”

They both laughed as Yang shifted around in order to pull Blake close and kiss her properly. There were fewer jeers from the scattering townsfolk, allowing them an uninterrupted moment to indulge in each other.

A short moment, anyway.

“You can never stop yourself after a demonstration,” Weiss said with a sigh. Yang hadn’t even heard her approach. She looked up, spotting Weiss’s familiar parasol and unamused expression. Beside her was Ruby, who gave Yang an embarrassed eyroll. “You couldn’t even wait to get off the practice field?”

“Why, thank you, Weiss. We _did_ do a good job,” Yang said loudly, causing Ruby to snort and Blake to giggle.

“Like you need my validation.”

“Well, considerin’ it was our first time demonstratin’ as a _team_,” Yang said emphatically, jutting her head to Blake, “it woulda been nice to get some.”

“Like you both aren’t the best shooters our town has,” Weiss grumbled. “You just want your ego stroked.”

“That’s not the only--” Yang began, but Weiss held up one hand.

“Don’t say it,” she warned. Then, they all burst out laughing, Weiss included.

“You know it’s bad when other people can anticipate the awful jokes you’re about to say,” Blake said.

“It wouldn’ta been an awful joke! It was practically handed to me on a silver platter, and I couldn’t just let somethin’ like that pass me by!”

“It’s called _restraint_,” Weiss insisted, but even she wore a smile that pushed at the bottom of her scar. With that smile, she didn’t look half as intimidating. She looked beautiful, and happy.

“Which Yang has _none_ of,” Ruby said. She jammed a hand beneath her red poncho, pulling out a disk. In that disk, in an even circle, six bullets were studded, with a metal knob at its back to make for easier gripping. “Anyway, I just wanted to give you this. If it works, I can make more.”

“What is it?” Blake asked curiously, but Yang knew instantly. She lit up, taking it from Ruby’s hand, weighing it carefully.

“It’s for my gun,” she explained. Awkwardly, she reached around her front, shoving pre-loaded bullets into the pocket opposite her holster. Then, she pulled out the gun. “Here, hold out your hand for a sec.”

Yang clicked it open with one hand, shaking out a mix of bullets and spent casings into Blake’s hand.

She’d talked enough with Ruby about how it would work, using prepared bullets for her gun. Without popping the cylinder back in, she put the gun into her pocket, leaving the cylinder exposed. She reached around her front again, fumbling in her pocket for the prepared reloader disk. The action was less seamless than she’d imagined, and much slower, but she was still able to shove the prepared bullets into their chambers all at once. She popped the disc off the bullets and slipped it back into her pocket, then shut the cylinder back into place.

With a grin, she spun the cylinder, making sure everything was sound. Then she aimed at one of the targets and fired, hitting it dead center.

“It worked!” Ruby exclaimed, hopping up and down.

“It’s slow work, but it’s much faster than fillin’ it bullet by bullet,” Yang agreed. “If I keep a few with me, maybe I can be a little more useful in a fight.”

“It seems like it’d come in handy for people with both their hands, too,” Weiss said, looking impressed. “You should patent that.”

“It’s always business with you, huh?” Ruby remarked fondly. Before Weiss could object, Ruby mashed her fist into the top of her head for a thorough noogie. Weiss squawked in protest, batting Ruby’s hand away, almost dropping both her parasol and her monocle in the process.

“_Excuse_ me!”

“Weiss, you’re only encouraging her,” Yang told her sagely, holstering her gun and pulling the reloader disk back out of her pocket.

“I’m doing _no_ such thing!”

Yang took a closer look at the now-empty reloader. It seemed so simple, yet it must have been somewhat complicated for Ruby to make by herself. Blake leaned in to admire it.

“It’s perfect,” Yang announced, offering the emptied contraption back to Ruby. “Seriously. This is… incredible. Thank you.”

Ruby beamed, her struggle with Weiss forgotten. “You’re welcome! I’m so glad it worked!”

“See?” Blake said with a small smile. “You can still be a gunslinger.”

Yang looked back at Ruby and Weiss, who were watching with smiles of their own, Weiss’s side ponytail no longer quite so neat.

“Yeah,” Yang said, nudging Blake with her stump. “With you, maybe I can be whatever I wanna be.”

\--

Time passed, and for the most part, the town settled into peace. There was always something new to do, more plans to make, more occasions to celebrate. The mines were slowly raking in a profit again, boosting morale among the miners and cementing favorable opinions for Weiss, who ensured that shares were distributed fairly to human and Faunus workers. Blake reminded them all that there was much work to be done-- she arranged for both humans and Faunus alike to start working together in Argus-- but for the most part, all was at peace.

All, except for Yang.

As the town’s peace grew, so did Yang’s paranoia. Every time she walked down the streets alone, her stomach would start to churn with the _certainty_ that she was being followed, or watched. Even in daylight, her heart would sometimes start to pound and her arm would start to shake.

He was waiting for them, she knew. He was waiting for the right moment, for them to let their guard down so that he could attack.

She could never let her guard down.

“Y’all right?” Pyrrha asked one night at the saloon. Yang jerked back into the conversation; she had tuned out of Nora’s excited wedding planning to stare out the window, where she could have sworn she’d seen someone move.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m good.” Yang plastered on a smile and took a long swig of her beer. At least surrounded by people, she didn’t feel so anxious. “I’m just not the best weddin’ planner. Sorry, Nora.”

Nora rolled her eyes dramatically, slowly turning away from Yang to locate a new target. Then, she paused, spinning back to face Yang head-on.

“Y’oughta be _thinkin’ _about ideas, at least,” she said, jabbing a finger in Yang’s direction. “We’ve started takin’ bets, y’know, about when one of y’all is gonna propose.”

“What?!” At least the shock of Nora’s words was enough to break through Yang’s unease. “_Excuse _me?”

“You weren’t supposed to tell her that,” Pyrrha told Nora with a frown, throwing a dishrag at her face. Nora made a vague sound of complaint, and then Pyrrha smiled apologetically at Yang. “Don’t mind her. No one’s rushin’ anything.”

“I sure as hell hope not,” Yang said with a snort, looking over her shoulder to make sure Blake hadn’t entered the saloon yet. It was dance night, and Yang’s ribs finally felt like they could handle a little more fast-paced dancing. “She’s only been back a coupla months.”

“But it’s like you were always together, even when you were gone,” Pyrrha reminded her. She smiled slyly. “Like your hearts were still with each other, even if your bodies weren’t.”

“I… yeah.” Yang’s cheeks began to heat up.

“As I said, no rush,” Pyrrha said warmly, giving Yang a slow green-eyed wink. “But the folks are talkin’.”

“And bettin’, apparently,” Yang grumbled, taking another sip. “We’re gonna be entitled to a cut of the winnings, y’know.”

“Maybe as a wedding present.”

“Shut up.”

Pyrrha glanced over Yang’s shoulder, then gave her an amused nod. With a grin, Yang looked behind her, watching Blake stride into the room with that enthralling sway in her hips. Yang’s heart fluttered, and she took one last sip of her beer and slammed it onto the bartop.

She met Blake halfway, tipping her hat cordially. “Good evenin’. What’s a pretty girl like yourself doin’ on her own in an establishment like this?”

Blake laughed, shaking her head in amusement. “I’d watch myself if I were you,” she said warningly, raising a finger. “I’m spoken for, and I don’t think you’d want to mess with my girlfriend. She’s a gunslinger, after all.”

“Really? I bet I could take her. You haven’t seen my moves yet.”

Blake rolled her eyes, sliding an arm around Yang’s waist and pulling her close. “Then why don’t you show me… on the dance floor?”

“Oh, that’s smooth.”

“Wasn’t it?”

Yang led Blake to the dance floor, which was still mostly empty. The absence of a piano was still sad, though the upbeat sound of a fiddle filled the void somewhat. Jaune promised that he was making arrangements for a new piano to be delivered, but nothing would ever replace Penny Polendina at the keys.

Dancing was different without the piano, and different with one arm. Yang held Blake’s hand out to the side, wishing she could put another hand on Blake’s waist. Still, she was content enough when Blake placed her own at Yang’s.

It was only another thing to adapt to.

They took it easy, not wanting to press their luck too quickly with Yang’s barely-healed ribs. It felt good to be moving again, to step in time with the fiddle, to lead Blake through the motions. Blake twirled, her long black hair spinning with her. Her grace made up for Yang’s awkward one-armed fumbles, always seeming to know just how to correct it whenever either of them missed a step.

“Good to see you’re not rusty!” Yang said with a grin as the song came to a cheerful end. Blake chuckled; her cheeks had darkened with exertion, some wisps of hair curling at her temples.

“And you’re not so bad yourself, cowboy.”

It still felt like old times. While the town was different-- the saloon, the people there, the music, their own selves-- the atmosphere was still the same. There was still the same air of friendship and familiarity, of the bonds that tied them all together. It was comforting, and as they took their seats at the bar, Yang’s fears lay forgotten.

Those returned later, when her buzz was starting to fade and people began to trickle out of the saloon. Yang leaned against Blake, taking her hand as they left.

“I had a good time tonight,” Blake told her cheerfully. 

As they passed through the room, she waved a cheerful goodbye to Sun. He was gathered with his friends in a corner of saloon, sitting around a table of cards and pounding back drinks.

“See ya in the mornin’, Blake!” he called, nearly knocking over his tankard into Scarlet’s lap. The look of consternation on Scarlet’s face was almost enough to make Yang laugh. Neptune didn’t even seem to notice the near-miss. Ever the lightweight, he flapped his arms at Sage with dismay.

“And-- and I don’t even know what a bluenette _is_!” he complained loudly. “Why would she call me that?”

Blake covered a smile with her free hand, though Yang couldn’t hold back a bark of laughter. She continued to laugh as they pushed through the swinging doors to go outside, where finally Blake released a giggle of her own.

“He’s not a very good drunk, is he?” she asked, huddling closer to Yang.

“He’s pretty messy. He always likes to say he can hold his liquor, but he can barely make it through two beers without makin’ a damn fool of himself,” she chuckled. “And Sun ain’t helpin’ with that.”

“He thinks it’s funny.”

“Well, I guess he’s right about that.”

With the saloon behind them and the dark before them, it didn’t take long for a more sobering mood to descend. The shadows seemed so long where they were cast from the buildings and street lamps, and it made Yang uneasy. Unconsciously, she pulled Blake a little closer into her.

“Everything okay?” Blake asked, looking up at her.

Yang hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”

There was a loud yelp in the distance, and Yang couldn’t stop herself from jumping. She released Blake’s hand, shooting a hand to her gun on instinct before she realized what the sound was.

It was only a coyote.

Yang breathed out, letting go of her revolver’s grip as she let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly, finding Blake’s hand again. “Guess I’m just a little jumpy.”

Blake’s gaze saddened, and she stroked Yang’s hand with her thumb. Yang’s hand was shaking, and it took that gentle stroke for her to realize it.

“I know,” Blake said, without even needing Yang’s verbal confirmation about what caused that jumpiness. “I… see him, too, sometimes. Whenever I’m alone, or if things are too quiet… it’s like I can almost see him, watching me.”

“Yeah.” Yang’s shoulders sagged. She wasn’t alone in her fear. “The waiting’s always been the worst, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Blake closed her eyes, breathed out a single, jagged breath. “And not just when I’m awake. I still… I dream about him. Almost every night.”

“Me too.” Yang swallowed against a lump in her throat. She knew Blake still got nightmares, but neither of them liked to acknowledge it, choosing instead to seek wordless comfort in each other’s arms. Admitting it out loud was somehow harder. “D’you… think he’s doin’ this on purpose? Stringin’ us along?”

Blake smiled humorlessly. “I’d be more surprised if he wasn’t. This is exactly how he gets people. It’s all mind games to him. He _wants_ people to work themselves up with worry, or fear… He knows his reputation, and he uses it. He once told me that as long as he can get inside someone’s head, he’s won half the fight.”

“What a sick fuck.”

“Yeah.” Blake looked down at her feet. “But it works, and it’s what made him so successful.”

Silence fell between them. Blake looked so sad and distant, and Yang felt a flare of anxiety. Any thought of _distance_ always reawakened a primal kind of fear, making her flash back to the months she’d spent alone.

What if Adam somehow tore them apart again?

She must have worn her worry openly, for when Blake looked up, her expression morphed into one of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yang said, shaking her head and trying to bring herself back to the present. “I’m good.”

Blake squeezed her hand, then pulled her close. Yang’s arm went around her waist, holding her, trying to remind herself that Blake was still very much here.

“We’ll put an end to this,” Blake told her quietly. It sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as convince Yang. “And this time, I promise I’ll be there, and this time, I’ll protect you.”

“Dammit, Blake, that’s not what I want!” Yang said, nearly snapping with exasperation. She pulled herself back angrily, then stopped when she saw the stricken look on Blake’s face. Now feeling guilty of her reaction, Yang forced herself to calm down by drawing in a long, deep inhale. “Look. I don’t want all of this to be a matter of… me needin’ to be protected ‘cause of my arm. There’s always some kind of risk with gunslingin’, and I accepted that a long time ago, before I even met you.”

Blake’s ears fell a little, and she looked away. There was honest fear in her eyes. Maybe her offer of protection wasn’t just for Yang’s benefit.

“I don’t _need _to be protected,” Yang told her quietly, taking her hand again, trying to smooth her own harshness. “We talked about doin’ this _together_, not with you tryin’ to hold my hand through the whole thing. We’ve been shootin’ together, and you know I’m still capable. So let go of my hand, Blake. Let me use it to shoot.”

Blake said nothing for a long moment, holding herself stiffly. Then Yang tugged her hand and Blake stepped closer, allowing Yang to draw her into a tight embrace. She sank against Yang’s form, trembling slightly.

“You can’t take responsibility for him all on your own,” Yang reminded her gently. “We gotta go into this united. Maybe even, with two of us, we can somehow get around his fuckin’ sword, too.”

At this, Blake did laugh, albeit weakly. “Run in circles around him, shooting until something hits?”

“Exactly.” Yang rubbed her back in firm circles. “Maybe with two of us, we’ll have better luck, anyway. As long as we’re on equal footing when it happens.”

“Okay,” Blake said into Yang’s chest. “I know we’re on equal footing. I just… can’t help being nervous.” She looked back up, expression clouded. “Especially if he tries to catch us by ourselves. I don’t know what I’d do then.”

“We’ll just have to be careful,” Yang replied. It _was_ a possibility, and one they’d need to prepare for, but it didn’t mean that Yang liked thinking about it. “I’m scared, too. Of what he could do to us. But we can’t let that fear control us, ‘cause if we do, then he’s right. He’d win half the battle without liftin’ a finger.”

Blake jerked her head in a fierce, singular nod, then lay her head on Yang’s shoulder. “I won’t let him.”

“And I won’t, either.” Yang’s eyes flickered to the dark streets around them, ever on guard. “We’ll finish this. Together.”

\--

Ghira had his glasses on at the dinner table, poring over some of Weiss’s old notes. A few members of the White Fang had gathered at Weiss’s for dinner that night, strategizing for their upcoming trip to Argus. Yang was only half-listening as she picked at her food. All day, she’d had to fight off the feeling that someone was watching her. Even now, in the safety of Weiss’s home, she still felt vaguely uneasy.

“It would sound better if we had a name to go along with this town,” Ghira said, his deep voice carrying easily through the room. “The council in Argus won’t take us seriously if we keep referring to this place as _the old Mantle_.”

“None of the names we’ve come up with are very popular with the townsfolk,” Weiss explained, grimacing. “They want something memorable, or symbolic… but we’ve got nothing.”

Frowning, Ghira passed Weiss’s notes to Blake, who skimmed them distractedly. “Our presentation is in three weeks. To be perfectly honest, they might not even see us as a town even if there _is_ a name. It’s even possible that they’d try to send in their own people to change the town to better fit the mold of what a town _should _be.”

“That won’t happen,” Yang said, looking up. All eyes turned to her. It was the first time she’d spoken all night. “Weiss is gonna be there, and so will I. Between the two of us, we’ve got enough clout with the humans to make ‘em take us seriously.”

“Even so,” Ghira replied patiently. “It’s going to be an uphill battle for the Faunus in Argus. This presentation will hopefully push a change to some of their laws. It’s another matter completely to change the minds of the public.”

“There ain’t gonna be a big change overnight,” Yang said, setting her fork down. “I learned that when I was mayor. It takes a lot to change someone’s mindset. It could even take generations for real equality.”

“So we’ll encourage it however we can,” Weiss said firmly. “I can at least ensure fair labor practices with the Schnee Dust Company, and maybe I can influence other companies to do the same.”

“And if this town keeps treatin’ the Faunus right, then it’ll always be a safe place if others need it,” the chameleon Faunus Ilia added. 

Before Ilia, Yang hadn’t known there were such things as chameleon Faunus, capable of changing their skin and eye color at will. According to Blake, it was for that reason Adam had almost chosen Ilia to be the one to infiltrate Mantle all that time ago; by changing her skin color, she could easily pass as human. It was only Ilia’s temper that disqualified her. One accidental color-change in a fit of rage, and her cover would have been blown.

How many things would have been different, if it was Ilia that Yang had found on the train instead of Blake?

“It’s a shame there’s already a town called Haven,” Kali said with a chuckle, rising from her chair to collect their plates. “Or else that might have been a good idea.”

“It would,” Councilman Bogg said wistfully. “But we’ll think of something just as strong.”

Blake paused amid her shuffling of notes. She looked over at Weiss quizzically. “Why did you write this down?” she asked, passing a sheet of paper to Weiss, pointing at a section.

Weiss peered over at it, then shrugged. “It sounded inspirational.”

“What is?” Yang asked, craning her neck to try reading it. Weiss’s handwriting was neat, though it was too small to read from afar.

“Just something Ghira said,” Weiss said with a shrug. “I didn’t want to forget it. What about it?”

Blake pulled the paper back, then handed it to Yang and pointed out the relevant note. It was dated the day after Yang’s attempted execution; it must have been from that very first meeting after Ghira arrived. Yang could remember how funny he looked, sitting on a too-small stool, but delivering powerful words to the gathered people. She read the note.

_New town is a beacon of hope for the future_

“That might be a good name,” Blake said, sounding almost surprised by her own idea.

“What is?” Ilia asked, and Ghira’s bushy eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Dad, Weiss’s notes said you called this town a _beacon of hope_,” Blake said eagerly, a small smile starting to form. Yang had to stop herself from focusing too hard on Blake’s lips. “I think Beacon might make a nice name for the town.”

There was a pause as everyone considered it. Yang might have been a little biased-- Blake always had the cleverest ideas-- but Beacon sounded like a good name. A strong name. It could stand on its own, and it was a word that could truly represent the town.

Beacon could work.

“It… is an excellent suggestion,” Weiss remarked, tapping her pen on the table twice before making a note on a fresh sheet of paper. “It _would_ be fitting. I’ll bring it up to the council on Monday. That’s exactly what each of us dream for this town, is that it becomes just what Ghira said: a beacon of hope for the future, for both Faunus and humans. A name like that… would be beautiful.”

Beside her, Pyrrha scooted closer. Yang could see her slide a hand behind Weiss’s back before she pressed a kiss to her cheek. Weiss’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink.

“I like it!” Ilia announced, leaning back in her seat with a grin.

“I’d vote for it,” Yang agreed, giving Blake a soft nudge with her stump. “Y’always come up with the best ideas, babe.”

It was Blake’s turn to blush, and she rolled her eyes with embarrassed amusement. “It was Dad who said it, not me.”

“Yeah, well I ain’t kissin’ him. No offense, Ghira.”

Ghira’s rumbling laughter meant that no offense was taken, but Blake raised her eyebrow. “You didn’t kiss me, though,” she pointed out. 

“Then I’ll have to fix that, won’t I?”

There was a collective (if patient and good-natured) groan as Yang stole a kiss. Blake interrupted it with a small peal of laughter, her breath warm and welcoming on Yang’s mouth.

Maybe Blake was a beacon in her own right, Yang thought, pulling away to smile at her. In her presence, all shadows fell away, and Yang felt bathed in light.

\--

There was so much to do to prepare for the trip to Argus. Yang had to enlist someone to take her place as sheriff during her absence, and leave them detailed notes on how any crime was to be handled when she was gone. She also had to prepare for her own part of the presentation to the Argus council about amending the laws concerning the Faunus, and her ideas about reestablishing Argus’s relationship with the town. It was so much busywork, in fact, that Yang almost forgot to worry about Adam.

Almost.

She still awoke from dreams in cold sweats, shivering until Blake pulled her close. He was always there in the back of her mind, bringing a strange tension to even the most basic of her duties. He underscored her regular stresses, and left a bite on even the most enjoyable tasks; during one visit to Bumblebee, she’d gasped aloud when the wind slammed the door shut. Her heart had continued to pound long after she realized that she was alone, and that no one was watching her.

It was exhausting, to be so afraid all the time.

Yang sighed heavily one afternoon as she left her office, rolling her head with a satisfying _crack_. The winds blustered through the desert more powerfully than usual that day, picking up tumbleweeds and rolling them across the landscape. She hoped that they wouldn’t create too much of a mess; tumbleweeds were notorious for getting stuck on fencing, or getting blown into mesquite and against buildings, getting stacked up high. It was always a hassle to clear the town of all the rogue tumbleweeds after a bad windstorm.

She surveyed the area, frowning at how the air seemed to take on a brown, depressing hue. Sandstorms in the desert weren’t rare, but they were never enjoyable. Already, people were leaning into the wind and making their way towards their homes or businesses, determined to get out of the gale.

“Y’oughta get home, Hugo!” Yang called out as a young dog-eared boy raced up to her. His mousy brown hair was blowing every which-way, and he squinted against the dust that was beginning to rise into the air. “It’s fixin’ to get nasty.”

“I know!” he replied excitedly. “It’s gonna be a sandstorm!”

“Great,” Yang muttered, pulling her bandana up over her mouth. She’d swallowed enough dirt in past sandstorms that she’d learned her lesson about walking around with an uncovered mouth. “Did you need somethin’?”

“Actually, yeah!” Hugo’s ears snapped to attention. “I just saw Blake, and she wanted me to pass on a message. And then she said you’d pay me for it, since she was in a hurry.”

“Oh?” Yang asked, smiling against her bandana. “I might be able to handle that. What’s the message?”

“She said that she got a report of some Grimm on the mine road,” he replied, jutting his chin in the direction of the mine. “She said it was just a coupla Death Stalkers or somethin’, but she wanted to get up there and deal with it, and said she’d like the help if you could give it.”

“That all?” Yang asked, trying to tamp down a slight feeling of unease. With the town in such good spirits, it was rare for Grimm to be so close. Then again, Grimm were unpredictable creatures, and it wasn’t unheard of for some to meander close to civilization on their own.

“Yep!” Hugo said, holding out his hand expectantly. Yang chuckled and fished a copper lien out of her coin pouch. It wasn’t the silver lien she used to tip her messengers with, but Hugo seemed to appreciate it all the same. He tucked it into his pocket with an extra pat. “Much obliged, Yang!”

“Now get outta the dirt, or your Ma’s gonna have my hide for keepin' you out here in a sandstorm.”

“She won’t care!” Hugo replied amiably. Then, with a happy wave, he darted off again, rounding the corner and out of sight, skittering around a tumbleweed as large as he was.

Yang squinted, looking down toward the mine while also trying to keep the dust out of her eyes. In the distance, approaching the mine,, was a wall of brown that was the incoming sandstorm, which would be a pain in the ass to get close to. 

Fighting through the sandstorm would probably be pointless for Yang, she thought with slight annoyance. It wasn’t like Blake really _needed _Yang. Knowing Blake, she’d probably have dispatched the Grimm by the time Yang got there.

But it was better not to take chances, especially with Adam on the loose. Yang reached to her right pocket, feeling the bulge of the revolver reloaders she’d stored there. After a bit of practice, she’d gotten the hang of using them to reload her gun. It wasn’t as quick as she was with two hands, but it was a marked improvement over trying to load bullet by bullet.

The walk to the mines was never a long one, but when braced against the wind, it made the trek _feel _long. She blinked constantly, trying to keep the dirt from getting into her eyes as she kept on the lookout for Grimm and tumbleweeds. It was hard enough to hear over the wind.

She _did_, however, hear a round of gunfire, and Yang quickened her pace. It didn’t sound too far away, and though she knew Blake was only killing Grimm, the sound made Yang’s heart race.

“Save one for me,” she muttered out loud, more to settle her own nerves than anything else.

She met no one else on the mining road; there were probably still people in the mines, though Yang had a feeling that they were going to wait out the storm before going home. This wasn’t weather anyone liked being out in, and especially with Grimm around, it could easily turn deadly.

With the sand buffeting her eyes, Yang kept her gaze lowered to the ground as much as possible. It was probably because of that sand that Yang saw it.

Yang’s entire stomach dropped, so suddenly that she felt on the verge of throwing up. She fell to her knees, picking up a cylindrical piece of metal.

It was the casing to a bullet. A larger-caliber bullet than either of the revolvers used.

Someone had fired a gun here, larger than their revolvers, and they had done so recently enough that the metal was still warm. Spots appeared in Yang’s vision, and her head felt full of suffocating fuzz. Whatever gunshot she heard had not belonged to Blake.

It wasn’t too hard to guess who that bullet belonged to.

Yang raised her shaking hand to her earlobe, giving it a hard pinch. The static in her brain didn’t go away completely, but the pain helped her focus a little more. She dropped the casing and pushed herself onto her feet, forcing herself to look at the rest of the area she’d found it in.

The wind whipped all around her, strong enough that it nearly blew the hat off her head. She pressed it harder onto her hair as she surveyed the ground, making sense of everything she saw.

There were footprints in the dirt, messy ones that the sand was already trying to obscure. However, she could still tell that there were two sets, and it seemed like there had been a struggle between their owners. If this had been Blake and Adam…

Yang could get a sense of the general direction they were headed in, and based on the sound of the gunshot she’d heard, she had to assume they weren’t far away. She still had time to get to them.

“I’m comin’, Blake,” Yang murmured, a slight tremor in her voice. Before her, the air was thick with sand. The deeper she went into it, the worse her visibility would be. This was the kind of sandstorm that turned the sky dark, that looked like a solid cloud of dirt. It would be hell to go into, but it also meant that it would be hard for anyone else to fight back.

Even Adam would struggle in a sandstorm.

Yang took a deep breath, the air stale through her bandana. There were two of them, and she had to believe that Blake was still fighting.

She had to believe it.

Yang pulled out her gun and didn’t think twice. Even when the wind managed to dislodge her hat, blowing it off her head and whipping her hair into a frenzy.

Raising her gun, Yang stepped into the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexa, play "Armed and Ready (Acoustic)."
> 
> Thank youuuu Aziminil for beta-ing! Also, thank you to the [Bumbleby Big Bang](https://bumblebybigbang.tumblr.com/) discord for being a big motivator with all our group power hours! If you write or create art, I recommend you join in! It's going to be a great time!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: violence, minor character death

With every step Yang took, it felt like the wind blew incrementally stronger. She braced herself, leaning into the wind, feeling her hair whip around her head. Not willing to lower her gun to pull it back, she shook her hair out, rolling her head so that the hair would hopefully blow behind her instead of into her eyes. In doing so, the bandana slipped a little from her mouth, so Yang paused to push it up with the back of her wrist.

She strained her ears, trying to get a sense of where Blake and Adam might have gone. It was difficult with the howling wind, and the rustling of the mesquite. She didn’t want to risk calling out to Blake; if she did, Adam would be able to hear and potentially gain the upper hand, which she couldn’t allow.

The silence wasn’t reassuring.

She supposed she could have been overreacting. The casing could have been from something unrelated, and the footprints could have been old. It was possible that Yang had just sent herself on a wild goose chase, and that Blake was completely fine. Maybe Blake really _was_ just dealing with a few rogue Grimm.

But then she heard a shot, followed by a scream.

Yang didn’t stop to think. She bolted in the direction of the scream, dodging between mesquite and keeping out of the way of tumbleweeds. That was Blake’s voice, she thought, trying to keep herself from puking as she ran. Blake was hurt.

There was another shot, but this time, there was no scream. It was getting harder and harder to see through the sand; the brown had taken on a fog-like quality, an unfriendly kind of fog that tried to blow dirt into her eyes and pound at her face. Even the sun was dimmed, leaving a cruel, white disk balanced low in the sky. Yang’s hand shook where she held her gun ahead of her. It was like the whole desert-- the desert she had known and loved-- had turned against her.

Then, a voice.

“--wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just _behaved_!”

There was a slap, and the sound of Blake crying out. Yang’s blood boiled, and she crouched low beside a mesquite, finally seeing two figures ahead of her, much closer than she thought.

Blake was on the ground, propped up on her elbows and looking up. Her hat, too, was gone, and her dark hair was tangled and wind-whipped. Her left shoulder was dark with blood, stark against her white shirt, and Yang could see she was doing her best to keep her weight off that arm as she pushed herself back. Her lip was split, but it only made her expression of rage look that much more fierce.

Above her, stood Adam Taurus amid a vortex of sand, his crimson hair rippling in the wind. With his back to Yang, she couldn’t see his face, but she could make out a rifle dangling from a strap on his front, and could see the naked red metal of his Dust-sword in his hand. Any shot she fired would miss.

“You couldn’t do a simple _fucking_ job,” he spat. “I sent you to Mantle because I trusted you, above all the others. This was supposed to be an _easy_ job that could’ve saved our people from those mines, but instead you were _selfish_. You fucked a _human_, and picked her over us, and because of that, the White Fang is _dead_.”

“The White Fang isn’t _dead_, Adam!” Blake growled. She winced, pushing herself back, but he took another step closer to her. “We _fixed_ it, and now, we’re actually making a difference! Just let us _do_ it!”

“It’s too late for that, Blake,” he said, his voice so low that Yang almost didn’t hear it over the wind. “You can’t cooperate with those who’d do _this_ to our people.”

Adam moved a hand to his face, still keeping his sword bared in his other hand. There was a pause, and then he pulled it back, holding something white: his mask. Yang saw Blake’s ears flatten, and she looked away.

“These are the people who _hurt me_, Blake. And I’m not the only one they did this to. You _know_ that, but you still picked them over us. Over _me_.”

“And what about you?!” Blake demanded, still trying to scoot back. She faltered when her back hit the thorny branches of mesquite, and a brief second, panic flashed across her fact. “You didn’t just hurt humans! Now you’ve hurt the _Faunus_. You murdered our own kind!”

“They were traitors to our cause!”

“You’re delusional.”

Yang slowly began to move from her hiding place, trying to get around the scrubby mesquite in order to line up a better angle. If she could shoot Adam at the right angle, maybe her bullet could get shot through his body as it was pulled toward the Dust sword. She just needed to be careful, and move slow. The wind could cover the sound over footfalls, but she didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

Her heart nearly stopped as Adam swung his sword around to Blake’s front. Lightly, he pressed the tip of it over her shirt, to where the first scar would be. Then, idly, he dragged the sword across her stomach to her other hip, as if considering the idea of giving her a matching one.

“I’ve given it a lot of thought, my love,” he remarked as Yang began to backtrack. With his sword now in front of him, she would have to find a different angle. Blake must have noticed the movement. One of her ears twitched, and her eyes widened when they focused, for a split second, on Yang, before blinking furiously against the incoming sand. “I’ve thought about all the suffering I’ve been through. The death of my family. The beatings. This.” He pointed to his eye. “Watching my people be beaten down. Tortured. Killed. But you want to know what hurt me the most, Blake?”

Adam lowered his sword and crouched down, seizing Blake by the chin and forcing her to meet his eyes.

“_You_,” he hissed. There was nothing but venom in his voice. “You didn’t have to leave scars. You just left me alone.”

He paused, and Yang finally found a good angle. She squinted against the wind and sand. All she could do was pray that the wind wouldn’t fuck up her shot.

“But now… _you_ get to know what it’s like to be alone.”

Even with Adam’s face so close to hers, Blake managed a smile, flashing teeth. Her ears pricked up as she glanced in Yang’s direction once more.

“I’m not alone,” she replied, and Yang fired.

Adam swung around, but not quickly enough to avoid Yang’s bullet. It wasn’t a fatal shot-- whether it was the wind or the jarring movement of his arm, it didn’t blow all the way through his body-- but it did blast into his bicep.

He let out an angry yell as he shot up, holding his sword in front of him to block any more bullets. Blake took advantage of his lapse, lunging to the side and letting out a small yelp of pain as she moved her shoulder. Her own gun must have been knocked out of her grip, but she had it now, training its aim on Adam.

“You!” He lowered his injured arm. Sand was starting to stick to the growing wetness of his black shirt sleeve.

Now that Yang could see his face, she could finally see the grotesque mess of his eye. Blake had told her before what lay beneath the mask, but seeing it in person was another thing entirely. One cold blue eye stared at her, wide at first, and then it squinted against the airborne dust. His other eye was scarred and dead, the ugly letters _SDC_ branded across it. Another victim of the Schnee Dust Company’s darker days.

With a scar like that, Yang could even understand where his hatred had been born.

But not even that scar could recuse him of the terrible deeds he’d done in the name of his people. There was no room for hatred in their lives, or in their futures.

It was time for peace.

“We don’t want to hurt you, Adam,” Blake told him honestly. At this, Adam let out a bark of manic laughter.

“You think you’re going to hurt me?” he asked, his head twitching back and forth Blake to Yang as he stepped further and further away from them. “Your bullets aren’t going to hit.”

“One did,” Yang said, nodding at this arm. She stepped forward. “It might take a few rounds, but we can do it again.”

As she spoke, the bandana slid down off her mouth, but she didn’t attempt to fix it. She didn’t move her gun from where it was fixed on Adam.

“You can’t run,” Blake added, rising up on shaky legs. “If you turn your back on us, we _will_ shoot. Just come quietly, and no one has to get hurt.”

Yang, not taking her gun off Adam, sidestepped closer to Blake. “Y’all right?” she asked quietly, darting a quick glance to Blake’s shoulder. It was bleeding, and was obviously painful, but it wasn’t gushing. Blake nodded sharply, her hair swirling around her head in a dark windswept nimbus. Yang winced in sympathy.

Adam made a growling sound, then grimaced as he shifted to try and get a hold of his rifle. Between his injury and the way he clutched his sword with his other hand, there was no way he was going to get a good shot. Yet when Yang stepped toward him, he still raised it, his face morphed by rage and pain.

“Put your gun down, Adam,” Yang ordered. “This is your last chance.”

“Funny, how it’s always the humans who get to decide that,” Adam scoffed. He hefted the rifle to his shoulder with a wince. It wobbled precariously there, but he kept his finger on the trigger as he pointed it at Yang. 

Visibly, Yang’s hand began to shake, and a wild smirk spread across his face.

“Even _you_ know you can’t get through me,” he said through gritted teeth. “You know you’re a coward. Weak. You’ve always _been_ weak. Like all the other humans, you always relied on a Faunus. On _her_!”

Yang’s grip on her gun tightened, making to aim for his head, sword or no, but she felt gentle pressure on her shoulder. Her eyes flickered to Blake, who had apparently fought through the pain of her shot shoulder to grip Yang’s.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Adam,” she replied evenly. “She isn’t weak, and neither am I. We’ve got each other’s backs, Adam, which is more than I’ve ever been able to say for you. Yang and I protect each other.”

The fury on Adam’s face was monstrous, but despite her fear, Yang smiled. Blake raised her gun, matching it to the level of Yang’s own.

They both fired.

(_One_)

As Yang expected, neither shot hit him. They both hit Adam’s sword, but it was the distraction they needed. Blake gave Yang’s shoulder a shove with a small cry of pain, and they jumped away from each other in opposite directions. Yang looped around Adam and shot again (_two_), once more hitting his sword. Her bushy hair blew into her face, mixing with sand, and she shook it loose as she avoided a tumbleweed.

Blake, too, fired again, and the way they moved in opposite directions meant that Adam didn’t know who to focus on first. He swung his rifle around, trying to lock onto a target, while he held his sword out to his side, ready to stop any bullets that were shot at him.

“What makes _her_ so different?!” Adam demanded, constantly looking between the two women. “You were supposed to be at _my_ side, Blake!”

He pulled the trigger, and he grunted as the recoil jarred his wound. The shot missed Yang widely, though she still flinched. 

Yang hit the switch on the gun barrel. She knew that only using one gun to propel herself forward meant that she had to be wary of her angle, but she could use the angle to her advantage. She fired (_three_), launching herself sideways in Blake’s direction. Seeing what Yang was doing, Blake mimicked her, landing behind Adam in a crouch.

Yang didn’t hesitate. She leaped forward, bringing her gun up and firing twice (_fourfive_), hoping either of the bullets would be either close enough or at just the right angle, but Adam managed to spin just enough for the bullets to cleanly hit his sword.

Blake took advantage of his focus by pouncing ahead, grabbing the back of his shirt and pressing the gun to the back of his head, but he shook her off immediately, before she could make the shot. Her arm swung back, firing into the air. He pulled his sword back, jabbing his elbow into Blake’s wound. She screamed and let go, dropping her gun to instinctively clutch her shoulder. He lowered his gun and swung it, crashing the butt into her head and knocking her to the ground before Yang could get a good shot.

“Blake!” Yang could taste dirt blowing into her mouth, coating her tongue, but she didn’t have a chance to spit it out. Adam whirled back to her, raising his sword--

(Yang’s memory flashed, she saw fire again, and smoke and darkness and blood, and most of all, she felt terror.)

\--but Blake let out a gasp and grunt, seizing Adam’s ankle and yanking.

It knocked Adam off his feet, and Yang tackled him. She would have expected the fall to severely slow down a wounded man, but Adam continued to thrash. A gun went off, but Yang couldn’t tell who had shot it, only knowing from the lack of recoil that it wasn’t her own. Adam seized her hair and pulled, and Yang’s shrill cry surprised even her own ears. 

The assault shocked her into dropping her gun, and she landed badly on the ground. Her stump hit something sharp, agonizing to the sensitive flesh, making her yelp in pain. She pulled her head as hard as she could, gritting her teeth against the spots in her vision as she used her hair to tug Adam away from Blake. He refused to let go, and her whole head throbbed, but she heard Blake shout triumphantly.

“No!” Adam released Yang’s hair, but he was too late. Yang watched as Blake swayed on her feet, holding a red sword in her good hand. It must have been lightweight enough to throw; with a heaving groan, Blake swung it away from them, letting go of it. It spun, disappearing into swirling sands while Blake let out another pained grunt and sank to the ground.

Yang scrambled for her gun, trying to ignore the pain in her stump and her head. Adam, however, had managed to grab his rifle again. With two hands, he had a more stable grip.

He aimed it at Yang, and she aimed her own gun at him.

“I will never know what she sees in you,” he said, his voice deadly quiet. “A human. A coward. A cripple.”

“A _gunslinger_.” Blake rose shakily to her feet, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. She had her gun in her hand, aimed at Adam.

He spun around in surprise, and took a step forward. Yang didn’t wait for him to fix his aim on Blake.

(_Six_)

It was like the world had frozen, like the individual grains of sand in the blustering wind had slowed to a halt. Yang didn’t even feel the need to breathe; time had stopped.

Before her, stood Adam. There were two splotches of red on his back like dark wings, quickly growing, even now when time stood still.

He didn’t scream, he didn’t bellow, he didn’t sob.

“Oh,” was all Adam said. He fell to his knees, and then slumped forward, leaving Blake standing in front of him, smoke still trickling out of the barrel of her gun.

Yang gasped in a breath, almost choking on the sand, finally realizing she hadn’t breathed at all since he’d fallen. She had shot on an exhale, just as she’d once instructed Blake, then had forgotten to inhale again.

She watched as Blake’s face began to change into something that looked like a grimace, like a frown. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Yang darted over to her, stepping around Adam’s body to wrap her arm around Blake. As if the contact was all she was waiting for, she collapsed automatically against Yang and burying her face in Yang’s neck, her entire body wracked with sobs as the man on the ground breathed his last

“I’m… so sorry,” Blake choked out, ears sinking low on her head.

“It’s over,” Yang murmured. “It’s all over now.”

“I didn’t know he-- was here--” Blake said, her words coming out in shuddery gasps. “I-- I got the Grimm, but he was here, and he-- he surprised me. I wouldn’t have done this without you. I didn’t mean--”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Yang told her firmly. She lightly touched Blake’s cheek with her palm, guiding her face to look her in the eyes. Blake was trembling. “I’m here now, and it’s done.”

“We did it.”

“We did.”

Yang combed her fingers through Blake’s hair, then gave her a soft kiss. Blake’s whole face was covered with sand and grit, stuck to her tear stains and blood, but Yang didn’t pull away even when she tasted dust on her lips.

“I’m not… going to leave you again,” Blake told her, sniffling a little. “I swear.”

Yang kissed her again, even more tenderly. “I know you won’t,” she replied, voice cracking. 

Blake whimpered again, then leaned her head closer. Yang remembered the way Adam had slammed her head with the butt of his rifle, so she let Blake choose how hard she pressed her forehead against Yang’s. Just the contact, though, and sharing each other’s air, was comforting. 

Between them, Blake’s tears continued to fall.

It was just like waking up from any other nightmare; Yang held Blake as she shook, letting their heart rates slow and the adrenaline drain from their bodies.

At least this was a nightmare that was over for good.

\--

All told, they got out pretty easily. Blake got the worst of it, with a concussion and a gunshot wound to her shoulder, while Yang only had to deal with scrapes, cuts, and a couple bruises.

“So now it’s your turn to rest,” Yang told her when she was finally able to settle Blake into bed. She smiled, finding it easier to do with an unburdened heart. “How the tables have turned.”

Blake chuckled weakly. With her arm in a sling, she wasn’t too different from Yang now. She’d been given strict orders to rest her arm in order to let her shoulder heal, and already, she was getting frustrated by the limitations.

“I’m starting to figure out how you must’ve felt,” Blake grumbled. Yang laughed.

“You definitely whine more,” she teased, and Blake stuck her tongue out.

“I don’t believe _that_ for a minute.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

“Or I could just ask your sister.”

“She’s biased!” Yang tried to feign outrage, but failed when she cracked a wide smile. “Okay, so maybe you’re allowed to whine a little. You did just get shot. _And_ concussed.”

“I’ll still try not to whine though,” Blake replied. She frowned a little, wiggling into the pillows. “I just hate being so… helpless.”

“Well, lucky for me…” Yang said, leaning over her and brushing a kiss against Blake’s forehead, “I love taking care of you, baby.”

And she truly did. After they’d been seen to by the town doctor, Yang had taken them home and helped Blake into the bath. They were both so covered in dirt, blood, and sweat that it had taken a long time to get clean. She’d scrubbed Blake, careful to get all trace of sand out of her hair, and untangling the hair matted by blood. Then she’d done the same to herself as Blake curled up in the cooling water. By the time she’d finished, there was so much grit at the bottom of the tub that Yang had them both get out and then, after the water had drained, she refilled the tub so that they could soak together, Yang’s arm wrapped around Blake, who fell asleep against her.

It had been nice, to take care of Blake like that.

She wondered if she could do it every day, for the rest of their lives.

“I love you,” she told Blake softly as she climbed into bed beside her. Blake smiled, already trying to cuddle against her.

“I love you, too.”

They had a whole hour of peace before the knock at the door.

“Come in,” Yang called, half-asleep, too comfortable to pull herself out of bed. She felt Blake’s eyelashes flutter against her neck, a slight tickle.

“Are you decent?” Weiss asked through the bedroom door, and Yang closed her eyes.

“Unfortunately,” Yang replied, and Blake chuckled lowly, shifting herself up. The door opened, and Weiss and Ruby entered. Yang could see Blake’s parents hovering in their doorway-- Ghira would have been hard to miss-- but Weiss slammed the door shut behind her.

“I told everyone that you wanted some quiet,” Weiss told them irritably, folding her arms. “But your parents are extremely persistent, Blake.”

“They already saw me,” Blake replied, brow furrowing as Yang helped her sit up. “They know I’m fine.”

“But they’re also parents,” Weiss pointed out. “_Worried_ ones.”

“You may have to bar the door,” Ruby offered. “And, no offense, Blake, but your mom’s kinda nosy.”

Blake snorted, and Yang rolled her eyes. “So why are y’all here, _knowin’_ we needed some quiet time?”

“Well, we wanted to be the first to tell you,” Weiss said with a frown. “I just got back from a meeting with the council--”

“--they called an emergency meeting after everything that happened with Adam today,” Ruby filled in, and Weiss elbowed her.

“Wait, why did y’all have an emergency meeting?” Yang asked with a frown.

“There was a fugitive-- a known _criminal_\-- hiding in our midst. It’s reasonable for the council to be on the same page, should there be any panic over it,” Weiss replied severely. “_Anyway_… I also brought up your idea of a town name, Blake, and I wanted to let you know that unless the general public objects--”

“It’s gonna be the name of the town!” Ruby interrupted, pumping a fist in the air. “_Beacon_!”

Yang and Blake exchanged a surprised look. After everything that had happened that day, the name of the town was the furthest from their minds. Upon hearing it, though, Yang was suddenly glad that they’d been told.

It was a glimmer of light, after a day of fear and grief.

“That’s… wonderful,” Yang said, a slow smile growing on her face. “It’s a great name. The kinda name that’ll go down in history.”

“I bet Dad’ll be happy to hear that,” Blake said, giving Weiss a smile of her own. “At least now, we can go to that meeting in Argus with a name.”

“We’re a real town,” Ruby agreed excitedly. “A _good_ one.”

“The kind of town we’ve always dreamed about… where everyone can live equally,” Blake said, smiling, placing her good hand on Yang’s knee. “_Beacon_.”

“With any luck, we can exert a little influence on Argus, and maybe they’ll take on some of our ideas,” Weiss said, fiddling with her monocle chain. “Especially now, with Adam gone, there won’t be as big a shadow over our heads. With everyone willing to be more peaceful, it can only help the cause.”

“He _is_ gone,” Blake remarked, more to herself, sounding almost like she was trying to reassure herself. Yang leaned over, giving her a quick kiss, before Ruby bounced over to their bedside. Working carefully around the sling, Ruby wrapped Blake in a hug.

“I’m so glad y’all are okay!” she said, a bit of emotion making her voice quiver.

“It _was _a good thing Yang was there for you in time,” Weiss acknowledged somberly, looking over at Yang. “After the things he’s done…” She shook her head. “It’s a little scary to think about.”

“We were there for each other,” Yang corrected, shooting Blake a soft look when Ruby released her. Blake gave her a small smile. “I don’t think either of us coulda done it without the other.”

“Anyway,” Weiss said, a little more gently. “That’s all we wanted to say. We thought it might be a little good news, after such an awful day. I know y’all didn’t want to be bothered--”

Ruby shrieked, the sound making Weiss jump, and even Blake twitched with mild alarm as Ruby thrust a finger to point in Weiss’s direction.

“She said it!” she cackled, doubling over with laughter. “She _actually_ said it!”

“Said what?” Weiss asked, confused, looking over to Blake and Yang, who were also starting to laugh, catching on.

“You’re a western girl now, Weiss!” Yang explained, grinning.

“I don’t get it.”

“You said _y’all_,” Blake said with a wicked grin. “Before you know it, you’ll be talking with a drawl.”

“I would never--” Weiss protested, cheeks going slightly pink, but it was no use. Ruby and Yang were already chattering with excitement, while Blake shook her head in amusement.

“Ruby, you gotta tell the others at the saloon. They’re gonna wanna throw a party for this!” Yang said, though Ruby was already ticking something off on her fingers.

“Nora _said_ Pyrrha was gonna wear off on her, but Jaune said--”

“They weren’t bettin’, were they?” Yang asked, suddenly suspicious. She hadn’t forgotten the bet on a proposal. Ruby grinned.

“They prob’ly were.”

“Then I shoulda been on it!” Yang groaned and threw her arm across her forehead. “I bet I coulda made her say it sooner!”

“Because you cheat, Yang Xiao Long!”

Weiss’s face was practically purple by the time she tugged at Ruby’s poncho, an interesting shade that clashed with her blue eyes. “You are telling them _nothing_.”

“You’d have to catch me first!” Ruby said, bouncing. Weiss opened her mouth to say something, or probably argue, but Ruby had the door open and zipped out of it before Weiss figured out what was happening. With a high-pitched groan that sounded suspiciously like a whine, Weiss ran after her, slamming the door behind them.

Laughing, Yang fell back into bed, wrapping her arm around Blake once more. As much as she wanted to doze off, she felt more awake after the visit from Weiss and Ruby.

“I guess she’s finally feeling at home out here,” Blake said, nuzzling into Yang’s neck.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Well, yeah.” Blake’s smile curled against Yang’s skin. “But being with you is all I need to feel at home.”

\--

It took some time for Blake to recover, and she was not a fan of the rest she was prescribed. For a while, she panicked at the idea that her injuries would keep her from attending the meeting with the Argus city council, which would take place in a couple weeks. Multiple times, it came down to Yang to reassure her.

“I can_not_ miss this!” Blake told Yang anxiously, flipping through a sheaf of notes where she sat up in bed. “If I miss this meeting because of a stupid _injury_\--”

“Shhh.” Yang cupped Blake’s cheek in her hand, stroking it with her thumb. Blake sighed, tilting her head against Yang’s palm. There were dark circles under her eyes; even though Adam was physically gone, Blake’s nightmares seemed to have continued. 

The night before, she’d shot up in bed, gasping, and clutching at Yang with both her good arm and the arm in its sling. She had been shaking so violently and her heart had been pounding, and all Yang could do was hold her close, and murmur comforting words into her ear. It had taken a while for Blake to calm down, and even longer to fall back asleep.

“The doctor said that you’ll prob’ly be fine for the trip to Argus,” Yang said soothingly. “As long as you keep your shoulder rested long enough to heal. If not, we can always put you in the wagon instead of on horseback.”

“I’d rather not ride a wagon all the way to Argus.”

“Well, with any luck, we can convince them to open the train route back up, so we won’t have to deal with this much longer, anyway,” Yang told her encouragingly. “And then, we’ll be able to take the train from here to Argus to Atlas… to anywhere we wanna go.”

“Oh yeah?” Blake’s ears perked up, and she gave Yang a small, amused smile. “And where would you take me?”

“Everywhere!” Yang grinned. “We could go to Vale. Vacuo. Mistral, even.”

“What about Patch?”

“You’d wanna go there?” Yang asked, surprised. “It’s nothin’ special. Just a ranch, on the prairie. And there’s no direct train to it, so--”

“I’d love to go,” Blake interrupted, her eyes twinkling. Even with the shadows under her eyes, she still carried so much light. “I have to see the place where the famous Gunslinger grew up.”

“Then you’ll have to take me to where _you_ grew up,” Yang replied eagerly. “So I can see where the _other _Gunslinger comes from.”

Blake laughed, then set her papers on the nightstand. She opened an arm. “Come lay down with me?” she asked, and there was no way Yang could say no to that.

\--

The trip from Beacon to Argus would take a few days, but Yang had a feeling the time would pass quickly, since she was surrounded by friends. In addition to Blake and Yang, the delegation included Weiss (who’d brought along Pyrrha), Ruby, Ghira, and a handful of Faunus and human council members including Robyn, who’d talked Winter into coming along with them.

As they left Beacon behind them, a good number of the townsfolk had come out to wave them on their way. The town seemed so much more lively now that a town name had been chosen, and Yang felt _good_ as they rode past the sign that announced, _Welcome to Beacon!_

Beneath it, in smaller letters, was written, _A home for everyone!_

This town was _theirs_.

“Good luck, y’all!” Nora screeched, loud enough to hear over the excited clamor of the crowd. Yang looked over her shoulder and saw her swipe the hat off Jaune’s head and toss it into the air. Yang watched him groan as the hat was blown away, and he broke away from the crowd to chase after it.

She shook her head, grinned, then turned back to look ahead. Beside her, she heard Blake laugh.

The desert sun beat down on them mercilessly, so everyone kept their hats pulled low. Ghira looked particularly funny driving their wagon, a wide-brimmed straw hat on his head and sitting on a bench that was definitely too small for him. Even the oxen seemed dwarfed in comparison to his size, and not for the first time, Yang thanked the gods that she was on his good side.

Every time they stopped at a wellspring, they topped off the water barrels. At least following the train tracks, there were regular wellsprings that had been made for the workers who’d laid those tracks. Yang only wished that there were places that provided shade along the route, but there were none out in the barren desert. It made her appreciate every hint of breeze.

“How you doin’, Weiss?” Yang called out a few hours into their ride. Weiss turned around to look at her, cheeks red and sweat glistening on her neck. Out of all of them, Weiss was the one who was least used to extended rides through the desert. She very much looked the part of a prim rich girl going out for an afternoon’s ride; a thin, light blue blouse and a dark vest, where her monocle chain was clipped. Yet she was already sweating through all of them, and Yang felt a twinge of pity.

“It’s… a little hot,” Weiss admitted meekly.

“Here. You’re gonna need a bandana out here,” Pyrrha said beside her, pulling a red one out of her pocket and tossing it to Weiss. Even on horseback, she towered over her. “I’m sorry. I shoulda offered you one sooner. I didn’t know you didn’t have any.”

“I didn’t even think about it.”

Yang rolled her eyes. Even though she’d been the one to ask the question, Weiss and Pyrrha just naturally gravitated into their own little world. Then again, she supposed that she and Blake were guilty of the same thing. Even Winter and Robyn remained in each other’s orbit, never leaving each other for long, basking in the pleasant glow of the newly-in-love.

The whole group of them were probably sickeningly romantic. It was no wonder Ghira rolled his eyes so often.

By the end of the day, it was a wonder his eyes hadn’t rolled out of his skull. When they broke for camp that night, he made a big show of lugging his tent to the far side of the wagon and away from the couples, complaining that he needed a break from the constant doe-eyes and whispered flirtatious jokes and stolen kisses. Everyone had laughed, but no one could really blame him.

Yang had missed sleeping out in the open desert. She and Blake had decided to forego a tent in favor of sleeping under the shimmering canopy, curling up on their shared bedroll with Blake’s head in Yang’s lap. They should have done this long ago, finding a quiet night to enjoy the stars and each other’s company. Throughout the night, they had shared sips from Yang’s flask of moonshine, and now the warmth pulsed through their blood. The night was peaceful.

Well, almost.

The peacefulness wasn’t without interruptions. Ghira’s snores were loud enough to hear even as far away as he was, occasionally sending Blake and Yang into random fits of giggles. The other notable interruption came when most of the camp had fallen asleep: a suspicious, muffled sigh from one of the nearby tents, followed by a hurried shushing sound. This happened several times, and by the fourth time, Yang resisted the urge to laugh, and Blake bit back a smile.

“Yang Xiao Long, have you _never_ heard of discretion?” Weiss called out irritably from a different tent.

“Why do y’always assume it’s me?” Yang asked with a snort.

“Because it usually is!”

“Not this time,” Yang replied with a smirk, resuming her stroking of Blake’s hair. Weiss made a strange, horrified gasp, probably realizing whose tent the sounds must have _really_ come from, and both Yang and Blake finally gave into laughter.

“Will y’all shut _up_?” Ruby pleaded from her own bedroll on the other side of the wagon. “I’m _begging_ you.”

It would probably make for an awkward morning, Yang thought, especially if any of the other council members could hear any of what was going on, but Weiss’s disgust over her sister was worth it. 

Yang chuckled, shaking her head, but found that, somehow, the ambient sounds of the camp weren’t hard to dismiss. She looked down at Blake, feeling consumed by her, eyes momentarily caught where the top button on her shirt was left undone. The gentle slope of her collarbone was so alluring. She was wholly engulfed in Blake’s world and in those glittering gold irises.

“D’you know your constellations?” Yang asked, her smile slipping into something more serious.

“Just a few. I know The Long Memory, the Ursai, The Two Brothers… I mostly worked with the Fang in cities, though, so I didn’t get to see stars as often as I’d like.”

“It’s hard to stargaze when cities are covered in Dust lights,” Yang agreed, absently running her fingers through Blake’s locks. “We should make a point, of gettin’ out into the desert to just… look at the stars sometimes. Then I can teach you all the constellations I know, or maybe we can invent a few of our own.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“_Peak_ romance, baby.”

To prove it, Yang leaned over her, kissing Blake softly. As beautiful as the stars were, they paled in comparison to her own personal moon goddess.

Blake pushed herself up slowly, turning around and getting to her knees in order to cup Yang’s face in her hands. They kissed again, a little harder, as Yang set her hand on Blake’s waist, urging her to climb over onto her lap.

They stayed like that for a while, simply kissing and touching and looking back up at the stars. The desert was cool at night, but it was delightfully warm in Blake’s arms and mouth. If only Blake had been with her during Yang’s cattle-driving days, she thought. She may have never wanted to stop living on the range.

They wriggled under the covers, where Yang slipped her hand under Blake’s nightshirt and around her waist, feeling for skin. Blake snuggled closer, head resting against Yang’s shoulder.

“I’m… probably going to have a little trouble in Argus,” Blake said after a moment. “It won’t be a big deal in the long run, but I wanted to give you a heads up… and maybe you could give me some help with it.”

“Trouble?” Yang asked, suddenly concerned. “You don’t have a warrant out for you or anything, do you?”

“No! Nothing like that,” Blake replied, laughing. Yang relaxed. “It’s just… outside of Beacon, it’s against the law for a Faunus to carry a weapon.”

Yang’s eyes narrowed. “They’re not gonna make you give up your gun?”

“I _could_ just not wear it...” Blake pointed out. “That would give the law no reason to arrest me.”

“Well, I won’t wear my gun if you can’t.”

“And I appreciate that,” Blake said, looking up at Yang and smiling softly. “But… I do have another idea. I know you _do_ like being a little… theatrical.”

Slowly, Yang began to smile. “I may enjoy it from time to time. Whatcha got in mind?”

“I think,” Blake said slowly, reaching a hand out, idly curling a strand of Yang’s hair around her finger, “I’ll get arrested.”

“Wait, what?”

“Listen,” Blake replied patiently, letting the blonde curl slide off her finger before finding a new strand. “When we go to Argus, as we are now… we’re all gonna be nobodies, for the most part. Well, you won’t, being the famous gunslinger and all…” Blake’s smile curled with amusement. “But the rest of us are nothing special. No one will pay attention to the fact that humans and Faunus are working together, as equals. We won’t have a chance to gain traction among the regular citizens of Argus. It’s possible that even the Faunus townsfolk won’t really understand why we’re there. But maybe, if I kept my gun...” She shrugged, letting Yang draw her own conclusion.

“So you wanna get arrested… to make a statement?”

“Essentially, yes. But even that won’t be effective on its own. If, somehow, I was able to convince someone famous to get arrested _with _me…”

Blake’s voice trailed and she released Yang’s lock of hair. Already, Yang’s smile was widening.

“That _would_ be a statement,” she replied amiably.

“The townspeople aren’t gonna stand for your arrest, Yang,” Blake went on. “It’s a bad look, to arrest the famous Solitas Dragon for no reason, or for whatever petty reason we can come up with.”

“And I wouldn’t leave the kennels without my true love,” Yang said dramatically, giving Blake a quick peck. “I could cause enough of a stink to get you outta there with me. People don’t like to tell me _no_.”

“So we’ll leave the kennels together, with our guns, and word’s gonna spread like wildfire. Then _everyone_ will see that we’re in Argus, as equals, and they’ll wanna know why.”

“They’re gonna write songs about us,” Yang said dreamily. “The gunslingin’ human and Faunus lovers, stirrin’ up trouble in the big city. People are gonna be talkin’ about us all over Remnant. Maybe we should throw in a demonstration of some sort, just to show off our skills.”

Blake laughed. “As I said, it’s a statement. _Everyone_ will know that we’re here, and that we’re here _together_.”

“It sounds like a good idea,” Yang said cheerfully. “Besides, I’ve never been arrested before. I’m lookin’ forward to seein’ what it’s like on the other side of the law.”

“So, what d’you say? Do you wanna get arrested with me?”

“Baby,” Yang replied, eyelashes fluttering. “I thought you’d never ask.”

\--

As expected, it didn’t take long for Blake to be singled out; people were always skeptical of groups of Faunus, and even though she was at the side of the famous Gunslinger, someone must have alerted the Argus lawmen that an armed Faunus was on the streets.

As the Beacon group rode down the cobbled streets, horse hooves clopping peacefully, two lawmen stormed toward them. They marched toward Blake, though they faltered when Yang whirled on them, eyes blazing red.

“Can I help you?” she drawled. She hopped off Bumblebee easily, then squared up to them, hooking her thumb on her belt. She saw both pairs of eyes flicker to the tied-off sleeve that covered her stump. They knew who she was.

“We’re… here to place her under arrest,” the younger one said, almost apologetically, jutting his head toward Blake. Blake looked down to Yang, who nodded.

“You’re tellin’ me you’re gonna arrest my girlfriend?” Yang asked, rolling her shoulders lazily. She wanted to make sure they knew exactly what their relationship was. “On what charge?”

“It’s against the law for a Faunus to carry a weapon,” the older lawman said, glaring at Blake. He seemed to be a little more seasoned than the young one, and his confidence showed in his open hostility toward Blake. “Get off your horse,” he told Blake, nearly spitting. “Or we’ll make you.”

“No need to be rude,” Blake tsked as she dismounted, and Yang saw the older lawman’s jaw tighten. She had a suspicion that if Yang hadn’t been there, he _would_ use force, and she didn’t like that at all.

Yang stiffened when the younger lawman seized Blake’s wrist, but she made sure that he felt the full weight of her glare. The man gulped, and used a gentler touch as he pulled the gun out of Blake’s holster and grabbed his handcuffs.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Weiss demanded hotly, leaping off her horse. “I’ll have you know--”

“It’s all a misunderstanding, Weiss,” Yang said firmly. “We’ll straighten this out.” She paused. “Especially since they’re puttin’ me under arrest, too.”

“_What_?!” Weiss looked downright furious. Ruby only looked on curiously, fiddling with the fringe of her poncho. Wanting to capitalize on everyone’s genuine outrage, they had only told Ghira and Ruby their plan. Their orders were to watch, but not interfere; afterwards, they would tell the rest of the group what to do.

“We’re not arresting you, ma’am,” the older man said stiffly. “Only the Faunus girl.”

“_Why_ does everyone call me _ma’am_?” Yang complained. Then, she added, almost as an afterthought, “Oh, and you’re definitely gonna arrest me.”

“Why would I-- _hey_!” Yang’s slap surprised the man more than it hurt, but his face turned an angry shade of purple.

“Should I tell you again?” she asked daringly. “Now do it, officer. Arrest me.”

It was hard to tell if the lawmen were more bewildered or furious, but she _had_ struck an officer, and violence against lawmen was enough to warrant an arrest. Reluctantly, the older one nodded to the younger, who fished out another pair of handcuffs.

“Wait… how am I s’posed to do this?” he hissed at his superior. “Do I just cuff the one hand?”

It was all Yang could do to keep a straight face as the older man considered. He glared at her, as if it was her fault for putting him in this position (though, of course, it was).

“I can’t believe they’re putting the Gunslingers under arrest!” Ruby called out, loudly enough for curious onlookers to hear. A few more heads turned in their direction.

“Just… get a rope, and tie her arm down,” the older officer said exasperatedly.

This _wasn’t_ Yang’s favorite idea; the last time she’d been tied up like this, it had been Adam’s work, and she’d found herself on the wrong end of a noose. She looked over at Blake, already cuffed, who must have seen the flash of panic in Yang’s eyes, for she offered Yang a gentle smile. It was enough to remind Yang to take a deep breath, in and out, as her arm was tied to her side.

“Is that Yang Xiao Long?” one of the passersby asked, confused.

“Why’re you tying her up like that?” Winter demanded, leaping off her own horse to join Weiss, Robyn following quickly behind her. “This is unethical.”

“She’s under arrest,” the older officer said coldly. There was a spattering of outraged mutters.

“We’re gonna have a word with the mayor about this!” Ruby announced, perhaps a little too cheesily. She even shook a fist in the lawmen’s direction. “This is a _miscarriage of justice_!”

“She _wanted_ us to arrest her!” the younger man blurted out anxiously, but he was drowned out by the slowly-gathering people and the angry whispers.

At least this part of their plan was working. People had started coming out of the nearby shops to watch what was happening; without knowing the full story, all they saw was the famous gunslinger, a rope tying her arm to her body, and the Faunus woman rumored to be her lover. The scene was enough for people to come to their own conclusions.

They were led away from the scene somewhat quickly; the lawmen had to know that the onlookers were likely to cause a fuss. Ruby was still calling after them, and it sounded like she’d convinced Robyn and a few others to join in the loud complaints.

Rumors would fly.

It was probably due to Yang’s presence that neither of the lawmen treated Blake roughly. Yang was able to stay near Blake, walking closely enough for people to recognize that they were _partners_ in this crime.

“Is that the Huntress?” she heard a child ask in the streets. “Why’s she tied up?”

By the time they reached the closest kennels, people were gawking openly, murmuring to each other, a few of them pointing at Yang. The lawmen heaved sighs of relief when they finally shoved Blake and Yang in the holding cell, loosening their bonds.

“I don’t know what stunt y’all pullin’,” the older man growled, “but it won’t work.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Yang replied mildly, stretching her arm. Even though she hadn’t been tied too tightly, there were still marks left on her skin, and Blake reached for her arm, rubbing at them.

The man grunted, then nodded to the younger lawman to lock the cell behind them. Yang smiled at him in what she hoped was a disarming way; she’d be a model prisoner now that she was safely arrested.

“We did put on a good show out there,” Blake mused after the guards left them. The kennelmaster had his own little office, which gave them enough privacy to talk. She continued rubbing at Yang’s arm, though she nodded at the small bench. “Let’s take a seat.”

“I didn’t think they’d tie me up like that,” Yang commented, sitting down on the bench. “It prob’ly made for a good image, but I can’t say I liked it.” She paused, then laughed shakily. “It kinda reminded me of… y’know.”

“Yeah.” Blake set a hand on Yang’s thigh, brushing her thumb against her reassuringly.

“I know it’s-- it’s sorta stupid,” Yang added, almost embarrassed. “He’s dead now, and I know I’d be fine, but still…”

“I know how that is,” Blake replied, giving her thigh a squeeze. “Really. He haunted me, too… for so long. Just the littlest things, sometimes, make me remember enough to feel like I’m still living in it. Like… a few days ago, at the saloon, I smelled the same kind of aftershave that he used to use and it…” Blake gulped, then shook her head. “It took me out, for a minute.”

Yang rubbed Blake’s back gently, and Blake leaned against her.

“With you, though… it’s easier to bring myself back to the present. I’ve always felt so much safer when I can be with you,” Blake admitted.

“You, too,” Yang said quietly, giving her a lingering kiss on the top of her head. Blake’s ear tickled her cheek. “I didn’t even realize it till you were gone. With you, it’s like… I can relax a little more. I can be myself. I don’t have to be the… the famous whatever. I trust you to see who I am underneath that. I don’t need to be strong, or brave… I can just… be safe. With you.”

Blake looked up at her, and with Yang looking back down, their faces were inches apart. Even though they were in a jail cell that smelled vaguely of urine and sawdust, sitting on a hard bench, the moment felt almost otherworldly intimate and close.

“I’ll never leave you again,” Blake said quietly. “You… really are my other half. I know we say that we’re the same gunslinger, but… I think that’s more truth than joke. I’m not complete without you, Yang. And I don’t… I don’t ever want to leave you again. Never.”

“Then don’t.” Yang smiled, feeling oddly serene for someone who’d just been arrested. “You never have to leave again.”

“I won’t. I swear.”

“That’s… not what I’m askin’.” Yang could feel her face suddenly burning with heat and her mind begin to swim. But it suddenly felt _right_ to ask it, and with that same intensity, she felt like she _needed _to ask it, right then. Blake’s ear cocked curiously.

“Then what _are_ you asking?”

“If you’d like to marry me.”

Blake’s ears shot up, and her eyes widened. “You… you’d want to marry me?”

“More than anything else in this world,” Yang said, smiling weakly. Her face felt so hot it felt like an actual sunburn. “I mean, if you don’t want to right away, we don’t have to. I know you’ve only been back a couple months, and I don’t wanna rush you, and--”

“Shhh.” Blake pressed a finger to Yang’s lips, her smile unbridled in a way that almost looked _giddy_, an odd juxtaposition to the glassiness of her eyes. “Yes. _Yes_. Of course I want to marry you.”

“Really?” Somehow, that was the only thing Yang could think to say. Blake laughed, though her eyes began to leak with tears.

“_Yes_, really,” she said. She pressed a hand against one of Yang’s still-burning cheeks, the touch feeling pleasantly cool. “Yang Xiao Long, I love you. I never _stopped_ loving you, and I never will. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives, and then for whatever comes after that. Every day, every year, every lifetime.” She paused, then drew in a deep, jagged breath. “I want nothing more than to be your wife, and for you to be mine.”

“Then, Blake Belladonna…” Yang paused, trying to think if she had anything that could function as a makeshift ring. Coming up dry, she instead pulled the hat off her head, offering it to Blake. “Will you marry me?”

Blake laughed aloud, the sound like a beautiful tinkling of chimes. She took off her own hat, then took Yang’s, settling it onto her head like a crown.

“Yes,” she said, setting her hands at Yang’s sides. “_Yes_.”

They kissed, Yang’s hand lightly pressed against Blake’s neck and Blake tangling her fingers through Yang’s hair.

Even though they were technically under arrest and technically locked in a holding cell, a kiss never tasted so free.

\--

In the end, they weren’t even under arrest for a full hour.

The door to the kennels swung open, and leading the charge was Ruby, bouncing toward the holding cell with a wide grin on her face. Behind her was Weiss, Pyrrha, and most of the other people who’d traveled with them, in addition to some people Yang didn’t know: a few men and women in lawmen’s uniforms (though she did notice that her two arresting officers slunk behind their fellow lawmen), and a man in rich suit that Yang vaguely recognized as Mayor Theodore.

“Release her,” Theodore said curtly, glaring at the arresting lawmen. “Y’all shoulda known better than to arrest Yang Xiao Long.”

“Sir, she provoked us!” the older man said, though he flushed at the rebuke.

“But did a _slap_ truly warrant an arrest?” Theodore demanded. He whirled to the holding cell and gave Yang a polite bob of his head. “My apologies, Sheriff Xiao Long.”

“No harm done, sir,” Yang said politely, smiling harmlessly as the kennelmaster darted over to unlock the cell door. Yang stepped out, though when Blake moved to follow her, the jailer held up his arm to stop her.

“She stays,” he said in a weasely-sounding voice. Yang turned her red stare on him.

“She’s my fiancée,” she told him coldly. “And she’s as much a gunslinger as me. She comes with me.”

The lawman turned to the mayor almost pleadingly, but Theodore gave a small shake of his head. “Let her go. She’s only one Faunus. She’s not worth the trouble.”

Yang raised an eyebrow, not liking his explanation, but it was something they would soon fix. Either way, Yang knew their actions would cause a fuss. Blake lifted her chin and left the cell, quickly taking Yang’s hand in her own.

“_Fiancée_?!” came the surprised, excited mutterings. Ruby made an unholy shrieking noise that made Blake’s ears pin back.

“Since _when_?!” she asked, her voice so high-pitched it was nearly a squeak. Behind her, Ghira’s eyes were wide as saucers.

“You’re _engaged_?”

“Maybe we should’ve waited till after we got out of the kennels to announce that,” Blake remarked in a low voice. Yang smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry.”

“So it’s _true_?” Weiss asked incredulously, head snapping back and forth from Yang to Blake. 

“A little bit, yeah,” Yang said, and Blake nodded. Yang could see Blake was biting her lip to keep a smile from growing too wide.

“We’ll tell you about it later,” Blake added hurriedly, giving Yang’s hand a squeeze. “Maybe when we’re not stuck in the kennels.”

Yang _could _tell that the lawmen and kennelmaster were getting irritated, so she gave a quick nod at everyone to back out of the kennels. There was a few seconds of confusion as people jostled each other, trying to get out the door quickly, and it still meant that Blake and Yang were among the last to leave.

“No hard feelings, Sheriff Xiao Long?” Mayor Theodore asked, his tone a little too friendly. Yang smiled brightly.

“None at all,” she said reassuringly. Because now, with the door open, she could already hear the excited chatter of a small crowd. She’d already won.

Yang gestured, graciously allowing the mayor to walk out before her. He nodded pleasantly to her, then stepped outside. As Blake fell into step behind him, Yang stopped her with a shake of her head.

“Give it a sec,” she instructed, grinning. “Let ‘em build up the anticipation, then we’ll step out together.”

“You and your theatrics,” Blake muttered, though she, too, was smiling.

“What can I say? I’m a glutton for a little extra drama.”

The kennelmaster glared at them as they waited, but he couldn’t argue as they both slipped their matching guns into their holsters. They were almost perfectly balanced, nearly mirror-images of each other. Yang had put her own hat back on, and Blake took a moment to comb her fingers through Yang’s hair.

“You’ve been released,” the kennelmaster reminded them impatiently. Yang bobbed her head in his direction.

“Yessir!” She nudged Blake. “You ready?”

“I am.”

“Then let’s go.” 

Yang pushed open the door, then used her hip to keep it open as she gestured for Blake to walk ahead of her. Once Blake was through, Yang quickly eased around to Blake’s left, keeping close and letting the crowd see where they wore their guns.

It wasn’t a packed crowd by any means; it was mostly full of nosy gawkers and children, people who were concerned about why the legendary Solitas Dragon had been taken to the kennels, or those who were eager to have firsthand knowledge of the latest gossip. When Yang and Blake stepped out, the questions and mutterings fell to a hush.

“We’re fine, y’all!” Yang said cheerfully, giving them a wave. “Just a misunderstanding, but we got it all sorted out.”

“Are you okay?” a young girl nearby asked, looking at them with wide eyes. Yang waved her hand, almost in dismissal.

“‘Course I am,” Yang replied cheerfully. “We’re just here to meet with the council, and I think they musta forgot my fiancée was a gunslinger, too.” For good measure, Yang nudged Blake a little.

“But… she’s a Faunus!” a teenager pointed out, confused. “And she’s a… and your...?”

There was a wave of whispering, but Yang let out a small laugh. “She’s twice the gunslinger I am,” she remarked fondly, nudging Blake again. “Get it? Because she’s got twice as many arms as me!”

At this, a few people laughed, though many still looked stunned.

“If we’ve got time tomorrow, after the meeting, maybe Blake and I’ll give a little shootin’ demonstration,” Yang said thoughtfully, like she’d only just come up with the idea. “I think y’all’ll be impressed with what she can do!”

“But she’s a _Faunus_!” a different voice said.

“That don’t mean she can’t shoot!” Yang drawled. She chanced a glance over to Robyn and Winter, who were speaking with a few of the watching humans. At the same time, Yang noticed that a few of the Faunus council members were doing the same thing with the Faunus onlookers.

When Yang and Blake had explained their plans to Ruby and Ghira, they made sure to be prepared. The other people in their party were to talk to whatever crowd had gathered, to speak to the onlookers about why they were all in Argus in the first place. To speak of Yang and where she stood with the Faunus, of Blake and how she’d completely remade the White Fang. To speak of their ideas and goals for Beacon, to play up the success of their rebuilt town. 

Word would spread, and with Yang’s arrest causing a splash, _everyone_ would know what was going on with Beacon.

Mayor Theodore looked frazzled as he spouted instructions to his lawmen, his face contorted with frustration and irritation. The arrest of the Gunslinger had caused enough of a disturbance, and Blake’s release would set an uncomfortable precedent for him regarding the Faunus. Yang could almost pity the man; she knew firsthand what it was like to be pulled in so many different directions. His people would be enraged by Blake’s release, just as much as they would be displeased that the legendary Gunslinger had been put behind bars.

Yang shook her head.

“Y’all right?” Blake asked quietly sensing a shift in Yang’s demeanor.

“I’m good,” she said, resuming a smile. “Just thinkin’ about Theodore. It makes me glad I’m not a mayor anymore.”

“Oh?” Blake raised an eyebrow.

“I was never a good one,” Yang admitted. Then, she shrugged. “I always _was_ better as a sheriff.”

\--

It was hard to say how receptive the Argus council was to the changes they suggested to the city law. As most council members were those who benefited directly from the exploitation of Faunus workers, it would be an uphill battle to convince them to change any laws, or even to relax them. Even during the meeting, most of the council refused to address any of the Faunus directly, oftentimes ignoring Blake outright, which made Yang seethe, but there was little that could be done.

But at least the council members recognized Beacon as the town it was; it was even agreed that autotrain connections between Argus and Beacon could be reestablished.

It was a start.

The gunslinging demonstration made a little more of an impact among the townsfolk. It set the town abuzz with talk about the Faunus with the gun, and how she was engaged to the famous Gunslinger. But Blake’s talent was very real, and with the lawmen unable to arrest her for possessing a firearm, she was able to show off trick shots and quick draws, earning begrudging respect from even the most stubborn onlookers.

Yang liked to think that, for a few minutes, they could make everyone forget about the racial tension in the city, and that she and Blake could unite the crowd with their prowess.

Both humans and Faunus had come out for the occasion, though they didn’t dare mingle. In the front, however, on the fenceline, a few of the children did mix, watching Blake and Yang with wide, awed eyes as they shot target after target, blasting them apart with Fire Dust or freezing them over with Ice Dust. Yang had even managed to requisition a little Gravity Dust, pleased at the gasps as a shot attracted and subsequently crumpled a tin can she’d set on top of a target.

When it came time to shoot the coin, Blake beckoned a small Faunus boy close. He didn’t have a coin in hand, but he did have a bottle cap. He held it up to her silently, his dark eyes flickering back to the human children who looked incredulously that he would be picked over them. She took the bottle cap from his little hand, and then took a coin from one of the human children.

And maybe it was a simple gesture like that could encourage the children to behave as equals. When Blake flicked the coin and the bottle cap into the air, _all_ the children watched side-by-side, enraptured as Yang first fired at the bottle cap and Blake shot the coin. 

Excitedly, the little Faunus boy that had given Blake the bottle cap tugged at the sleeve of his neighbor-- a human child who was too excited to think about the implications of talking to a Faunus. Both kids hopped up and down together, pointing in the direction the tokens had landed.

All the children raced to try and get either one, Faunus children together with the human ones as they kicked up dust on the field.

It was in those children that Yang found her victory. When she watched both the human and Faunus children, hunting through the dirt together, she saw more similarities than differences between them.

Maybe, in time, everyone else would see them, too.

Even if the meeting with the council didn’t go well, Yang still felt good on the way back to Beacon. It felt like her smile rarely left her face. And now the conversation for the ride included more than just flirtatious jokes to make Ghira squirm. 

There was a _wedding_ to plan.

“Absolutely no doilies,” Yang reminded Weiss for the second time, shaking her head firmly. “If I didn’t let you have ‘em for Jaune’s birthday, why in _hell_ would I let you put ‘em in our _wedding_?”

“It’s a different sort of occasion!” Weiss squeaked. “A kind of occasion where they would be _appropriate_.”

“I’m with Yang on this one,” Blake said with a laugh. “I’m sorry, but what makes you think a doily would ever be an _appropriate_ decoration for someone like Yang?”

Weiss let out a grumpy huff. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this was a party for _country bumpkins_.”

“Just bumpin’ along!” Ruby added helpfully, trotting up behind them. “Now, is a bumpkin a downgrade or an upgrade from when you called me a _yokel_ yesterday?”

“I’d say it’s an upgrade,” Yang replied, looking back down at her reins and the hand that held them. Since she and Blake had bought rings the day before, Yang couldn’t stop staring at her own finger, and Blake’s. Seeing a rings there made iit feel so _real_.

“Excuse _me_ for trying to make sure your wedding doesn’t end up being a… a square dance in a barn or something!” Weiss spluttered, and they all laughed.

“Oh, Weiss, you know we’ll appreciate any help you give us,” Blake told her encouragingly. “You won’t let our wedding be a total disaster.”

“Thank you, Blake!” Weiss shot daggers at Yang and Ruby. “I’m glad I’m not the only one here taking this seriously.”

“Well, we’ve got plenty of time. We haven’t even set a date yet,” Yang said. “And it’s not like we’re very formal people.”

Weiss sighed. “I know. It’s just… I’m… I’m really happy for you two. I guess I’m just excited. I want to be involved.”

“And you will be,” Yang replied, smiling reassuringly. “I can’t imagine gettin’ married without either of you two bein’ there.”

“Yeah,” Blake agreed. “However it goes down, you’ll be there.”

“All of us!” Ruby added. This made Weiss finally crack a smile.

“Y’know… after everything we’ve been through…” Weiss hesitated, blushing with her sudden confession. “All of you… you’re more of a family than I’ve ever really had. So I’m just… I’m happy that we’re all here now. Together. Planning a _wedding_.”

“Aw, Weiss.” Yang wasn’t on the right side to give Weiss a hug, so she leaned over to her in the best approximation. “I’m glad for it, too. I love you. _All_ of you.”

They must have looked like a strange group, all on horseback, angling toward each other in a messy huddle. But the love between them all was strong, and even the other riders would have been able to see it.

\--

The sun was starting to slip beyond the horizon by the time the caravan made its way past the _Welcome to Beacon!_ sign. Sunsets were always so beautiful in the desert, with its vast, clear skies. Yang paused at the sign, letting the rest of the riders and the wagon pass her by, just so she could get a good look at the sunset.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Blake commented, coming to a stop beside Yang. At this angle, the setting sun made the amethyst on Blake’s ring glitter. “I never would’ve thought I’d be the kind of person to settle down in a desert... but it’s grown on me.”

The rest of the riders ambled on without them, eager to get into town and rest, and to spread the news of their engagement. Yang could imagine that Ghira would tell Kali the news right away, and Ruby was bound to tell everyone in the saloon about it. There would be a lot to talk about in the coming days. They would have to savor this quiet sunset while they still could.

“It did the same thing to me,” Yang replied, smiling. “And now look at us. Makin’ a home here. Gunslingin’ together. Gettin’ married. I guess you just never know where life’s gonna take you.”

Blake leaned toward her, bringing their lips together in the softest of kisses. Around them, the sky was beginning to twinkle with its first stars against a velvety violet backdrop, streaked with the luminous golds of the desert sun. There was something special at this time of day; the contrast of color, the setting sun and rising moon, the weight of a gun on each of their hips.

This was _balance_.

“So, what do you think, love?” Blake asked, almost daringly, her breath warm on Yang’s lips. “You ready for wherever life decides to take us next?”

“If it’s with you?” Yang released her reins, bringing her hand up to caress Blake’s cheek. It was so soft beneath her calloused fingers. Blake blinked slowly, her eyes crinkling with her smile. “Then yeah. I think I am.”

They kissed again. Silhouetted against the setting sun and the swirls of colors, it was hard to tell where one Gunslinger ended and the other began. And maybe there was no end, or beginning, no start, no finish. There didn’t need to be. 

Out here in the desert, they were eternal.

They were complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the epilogue isn't posted by the time you finish this chapter, just wait a few minutes. It should be up shortly!
> 
> The wonderful wonderful wonderful artist SaigamiProject did some art of the stargazing scene!! You can find it [here](https://saigamiproject.tumblr.com/post/613787170970419200/starry-sky-over-the-solitas-desert-my-humble), and please follow her on [twitter](https://twitter.com/saigamiproject) and [tumblr](https://saigamiproject.tumblr.com/)!! She's an incredible illustrator and friend. 
> 
> Also thank you to [erughostcat](https://erughostcat.tumblr.com/) for this [incredible art](https://erughostcat.tumblr.com/post/613342355042582528/some-beehaw-fanart-bc-of-pugoata-s-epic) of the bees from this fic!! 
> 
> And, again, thank you so much to Aziminil for being my beta reader!! Saving my ass time and again!!


	22. Epilogue

“How’d I look?” Yang asked brightly, twirling playfully for Ruby and Weiss. Her white skirts spun around her ankles, and Ruby clapped enthusiastically.

Weiss, however, was unimpressed.

“You are _not_ wearing that to your _wedding_,” she said sharply, jabbing a finger first at Yang’s hat, and then at her boots. “Take ‘em off.”

“You’re not fun at all,” Yang grumbled, though she did pull her hat off her head. Underneath, her hair had been carefully brushed, tumbling in golden curls over her shoulders and down her back. There was one curl on her head that kept bobbing up, but for the most part, her hair cooperated.

She tossed her hat to Ruby, then looked at herself in the mirror. She ran a hand over the few hairs that the hat had ruffled out of place, and then she smiled.

She wasn’t one for false modesty; she could admit that she was beautiful in her simple white gown. It was cut low enough to reveal her collarbone and a hint of cleavage, yet not so low as to be indecent. Her short sleeves were sheer, fluttering just long enough to cover her stump. Ruby had helped to tighten the strings that tied back the waist, accentuating her curves. 

Her dressmaker, Scarlet, had once told her that she didn’t need the embellishment of pretty baubles to be beautiful. Again, Yang was inclined to agree. The only jewelry she wore were the diamond studs in her ears and the simple amethyst engagement ring on her finger. 

“And the boots,” Weiss added crossly. Yang scowled.

“I’m keepin’ the boots on.”

“You are _not_\--” Weiss began, but Ruby flicked her head with a finger.

“It’s _her_ weddin’ day! Let her wear the damn boots.”

Ruby was one to talk; she, too, was wearing boots under her dress. Weiss looked down pointedly at them, then gave Ruby a hard stare.

“I’d like to put it on the record now,” she said sternly, “that if and when Pyrrha and I choose to get married, there will be _no boots_.”

Yang rolled her eyes, but that would be a fight for another day. “Yes, ma’am!” she replied with a mock salute. Ruby giggled.

“Just goes to show you can’t take the cowgirl outta the girl, even on her wedding day!” she added. Weiss sighed.

“Fine, fine.” She shook her head. She’d recently cut her long white hair into a little bob, and it bounced around her ears with the motion. “You’re lucky the rest of you looks so good, Yang. Maybe Blake will overlook the boots.”

“It adds character!” Yang said, kicking a foot out. “And at least I shined ‘em first”

Weiss continued to shake her head slowly, though a fond sort of expression crossed over her face. “Well, I need to get back to helping Blake. But Yang…” She paused, finally giving into a smile. “You _do_ look beautiful today.”

Yang smiled, then opened her arm, inviting Weiss in for a hug. Ruby joined in, too, throwing her long arms around both of them and squeezing.

“Hey, watch the dress!” Yang complained as Ruby loosened her hold on them, but both sisters were grinning.

“Want me to send your dad in?” Weiss asked when Yang released her. “I’m sure between him and Ghira, Winter’s about ready to pull her hair out.”

“Yep, I’m ready,” Yang replied, already turning back to the mirror and adjusting her bodice. “See you there?”

“See you there.” In the mirror, Yang could see Weiss’s reflection give her a final smile, then slip out the door.

Yang had gone to Weiss and Pyrrha’s house in order to prepare for the wedding, letting Blake get ready in their own home. They’d decided to maintain the tradition of not seeing each other in their dresses beforehand, and the morning without Blake had been a long one.

But it would be worth it.

They’d opted for a smaller ceremony, or as small as they could manage. After a lot of discussion, they’d decided to hold it at Crocea Nova, so Jaune had shut the saloon down for the afternoon to keep the event private. It would be intimate, including only family and close friends, though the saloon would reopen after the ceremony for the regular patrons and any well-wishers. After all, the community was a big part of Blake and Yang’s lives. They didn’t want to _completely_ shut everyone out, but a private ceremony would ensure that they spent the important moments with the people who mattered most.

There was a knock at the door, and at the same time, both Ruby and Yang called, “Come in!”

“I got your flowers,” Taiyang said hurriedly, bustling into the room. However, upon seeing Yang, he stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. “Oh, Yang…”

“Don’t get soft on me now, old man,” Yang teased, but her tone was gentle.

“Just… just look at you!” he said, gesturing wildly with the bouquet of desert roses. “My little girl… gettin’ _married_.”

“Dad,” Yang sighed. She could see his eyes were welling up already, so she stepped forward, wrapping her arm around him in a hug. “And here you told me you weren’t gonna cry.”

“It’s one thing to say it, but another thing to see you in a weddin’ dress,” he said, voice cracking. He shoved the bouquet at Ruby, which gave him the freedom to give Yang the full, dad-sized embrace he was known for.

“Well, don’t cry on it,” Ruby piped up, grinning impishly. “You might ruin the fabric.”

Taiyang sniffed once, loudly, then pulled himself back. “I won’t cry on the dress,” he reassured them, though his eyes _were_ still glassy. “I’m just so proud, you little firecracker. This time last year, you could barely mount a horse by yourself. And look at you now!”

“_Dad_,” Yang said again, turning red. “Y’oughta save the sentiment for your speech.”

“I’ve always got sentiment to spare for my girls!”

Ruby made a gagging sound, and Yang laughed. “Thanks, Dad,” she replied warmly.

With Yang dressed and everyone else ready, there was nothing more to do than make their way to the saloon. Ruby peeked her head outside the door to make sure Blake wasn’t on the street, then ushered Yang along behind her.

Weiss’s house wasn’t too far from the saloon, and there was no wind to blow dust into Yang’s dress and hair, meaning the walk was pretty easy and relaxed. There were some people in the street, but they had better sense than to stop a bride on her way to her wedding. There were, however, excited cheers and several “_Good luck!_”s. If Yang’s hand hadn’t been full of flowers, she would have waved. Instead, she beamed, flashing toothy smiles to anyone in her path.

Ruby stayed a step behind her, keeping her eye on the hem of Yang’s dress, making sure no one would step on it. Over her shoulder, she’d hooked Yang’s gunbelt, the gun secure in its holster.

Rings weren’t the only things that bound Yang to Blake, after all, and going somewhere without her guns made Yang feel naked.

When they entered the saloon, most of the attendees were already there. Ren and Nora sat at the bar, helping themselves to some beer as they waited for the brides. They’d had their own wedding a couple months before, and they were undoubtedly happy to simply watch this one instead of participate. Jaune was still lining other chairs up, apparently arguing with Robyn over their placement. 

“This is gonna be too close,” he insisted, but Robyn yanked a chair away from him anyway.

“But people don’t wanna have to squint from across the room to watch the ceremony,” she replied, dragging the chair closer to the dance floor. “This ain’t gonna cramp anyone.”

“Yeah, but-- oh! Yang! Oh, _wow_!” Jaune exclaimed, straightening up so fast it was almost a jump. “You look incredible!”

“Thanks, but I’m taken, sweetheart,” Yang replied easily, aware of how everyone’s gazes immediately shot toward her. This was a different sort of attention than being the legendary Gunslinger; these faces weren’t awed, or intimidated. They were _happy_, both for Yang and for the woman she was about to marry. 

They were _happy_, that through everything, they could all come together to witness their love.

“So, uh… am I supposed to stand somewhere?” Yang asked, trying to move on from the standstill.

“Oh, right!” Jaune pointed toward the dance floor, near where Robyn was setting the chair she’d stolen from him. “We’re gonna do the ceremony over there, so you can go ahead now, if you’d like. Unless you want the big procession and everything?”

“Nah,” Yang said, waving her arm, and a couple of her flowers lost a couple of leaves. She winced. “Oops. Anyway, I don’t mind waitin’ up there. Then she can just come in and we can get started right off.”

“I dunno… it don’t feel right without music,” Nora commented from the bar. “Ruby’s gettin’ good enough with the piano that she could prob’ly play somethin’ as Blake walks in…”

“I’d really prefer it if we didn’t ruin the moment with a bad rendition of _Happy Birthday_,” Yang remarked, and Ruby squawked in protest.

“I’m gettin’ a _little_ better than that!” she accused. “I just got a new book of sheet music, and some of them are _nice_.”

“Wedding-nice?” Yang asked, taking a cursory sniff of her roses. “I’ve heard some of the stuff you play, and--”

She cut herself off as the saloon doors swung open, suddenly forgetting everything that had to do with the human language.

If the shattered moon was a creature that roamed the earth, with its celestial glow and broken majesty and heavenly glory, it would’ve had nothing on Blake.

She seemed to have her own center of gravity as she stepped into the room, a vision in white that contrasted beautifully with her coppery skin. The white straps hung off her shoulders, showing off the smooth curve of her neck and collarbone. One long arm was threaded through Ghira’s as he led her in, but not even his great size could outshine his daughter’s sublime radiance. Her other hand clutched her flowing skirts, keeping it out of the dusty ground. Upon entering the saloon, however, she let the skirts sweep the wooden floor to pat Ghira’s arm.

Yang stared openly, though it wasn’t like she had a choice. Blake was utterly spellbinding. 

And in just a few short minutes, Yang thought numbly, this woman would be her wife.

Blake seemed to be just as enchanted by Yang as Yang was with her. She froze in place as she gazed at her, gold eyes going wide. She’d worn her hair pinned up loosely, and a dark strand fell elegantly by her temple. Someone had woven simple white blossoms into her hair, and Yang wanted to pluck one, to smell it.

She swallowed hard.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road!” Robyn announced cheerfully, giving Jaune a hearty clap on the back, nearly knocking him over, as she dropped the chair she was holding. 

Blake and Yang had decided that Robyn would officiate, given her place on the council granted her the authority. While Weiss would have had the same authority, they’d kept her busy enough with the wedding preparations and organization, and they hadn’t wanted to place any additional stress on her. 

And for her part, Robyn seemed excited to do the honors. She had a pep in her step as she strode toward Winter, who wordlessly held out a thin binder to her. Instead of taking it first, though, Robyn leaned in to give her a quick kiss, and Winter wore her smile a little more openly when Robyn finally did take the binder from her.

Yang was still a little too stunned to move by the time Blake recovered, so it was Blake who reached her first, taking her arm out of Ghira’s in order to reach a hand to Yang’s cheek. Up close, Yang could see the small circular scar on Blake’s shoulder, the only reminder of an old gunshot wound.

“You look beautiful,” Blake said softly. She pressed a kiss to Yang’s lips, though it was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

“I think you’re supposed to save the kiss for _after_ the vows,” Weiss said lightly, handing a small bouquet to Blake. Yang laughed, but it felt more like a nervous hiccup.

“It’s a stupid rule,” Blake replied with a shrug, taking the flowers. She lowered her voice and gave Yang a wink. “Nice boots.”

Weiss’s eyeroll was almost audible.

“Blake!” Kali said anxiously, bustling up to them. “Is there anything else you need? Do you want me to get you a drink? Or I could make some tea, for after.”

“She’s _fine_, there’s gonna be _cake_!” Ruby said cheerfully, tugging Yang’s arm. “C’mon, let’s _go_.”

“I’m just so _happy_,” Kali said, unexpectedly bursting into tears. She pulled out a handkerchief to dab at her eyes, and Yang watched with amusement as Blake’s cheeks darkened with a blush.

“_Mom_.”

“Kali, let’s take a seat,” Ghira said, setting a hand on his wife’s shoulder. He wore a small smile, and gave both of them a nod.

Yang and Blake stood in front of Robyn, facing each other. With such a small wedding, there was no need for any official attendants, but Yang felt it suited them. In the end, it came down to Blake and Yang, and only them.

From this vantage point, Yang could see all of the people in their lives: Ruby and Weiss were still close at hand, sitting nearby. Pyrrha had pulled Weiss’s hand into her lap, stroking it idly with her thumb. There were their parents: the Belladonnas sitting beside Taiyang, and Qrow on Taiyang’s other side. Jaune, Ren, Nora, Winter, Sun, Ilia... 

Everyone in the world they cared about, here with them.

Robyn cleared her throat, opening her binder to read the words.

“We have gathered here today, as friends and family, to witness the joining of two souls…”

Yang’s eyes flickered to Blake, still having difficulty focusing on anything else _but_ those warm, golden eyes. Blake’s lips were quirked in a smile, noticing Yang’s fixed attention. Robyn’s words drifted over her head. The only thing Yang could think about was Blake.

“Yang?” Robyn asked, and it must not have been the first time, for there was an amused chuckle from a few people when Yang snapped her head around to look back at her.

“I’m sorry, what?”

There was more laughter, and Yang smiled sheepishly. Robyn rolled her eyes.

“You had a few words to say before the rings, right?”

“Oh! Right!” Yang fought back a blush, and then she cleared her throat a little. “So, uh…”

Why was it suddenly so hard to form words? She’d practiced saying all of this out loud several times, both by herself and in front of Ruby. Yet now Blake was in front of her, waiting expectantly, one cat ear twitching slightly with interest.

She was Yang Xiao Long. She didn’t get _nervous_.

“It’s… well, out on the range… cattle drivers get a sort of… connection to their weapons. Like, Ruby with Crescent Rose, and how she’s basically married to it.”

“Hey!” Ruby said good-naturedly, even though she’d already heard Yang practice this joke. Predictably, everyone laughed.

“Over the years, we even have a sort of saying for that connection,” Yang went on, finding her flow. “We like to say that our weapons are just an extension of our soul. They become a part of us. Not just in our minds, or like an extra limb… but a part of our _soul_.”

Blake tilted her head quizzically.

“The night I lost my arm,” Yang said, tone growing softer, more somber. “You went back for my gun before you left. So even when we were apart… you kept a part of me with you. A part of my soul.”

Blake’s entire expression slackened, her mouth forming a silent “_Oh_.”

“Even in the time we were apart… we were still together, Blake. You and me, just as we always have been. Every time you held that gun in your hands, or wore it on your waist… I was with you, that whole time.” 

Yang paused, laughing nervously, trying to not think about the hot prick of tears in the corners of her eyes.

“But honestly, Blake… I think you had a part of my soul from the moment I met you.” Yang knew her voice was starting to choke up, but she went on anyway. “When I first saw you in that train car. I mean, I wasn’t _tryin’_ to think about true love or anything right then… but as soon as I saw you… I knew you were special. Y’always _have_ been special to me. So you takin’ the gun that night… Maybe it was just the universe’s way of tellin’ us that it’s true, that you’re a part of my soul, too. Y’already knew that you had my heart. And now you have my soul.” 

Yang spread her arm wide, still holding the sweet-smelling desert roses. 

“So, you can have it. Have it all. My heart, my soul… Today, I want you to take the rest of me. For the rest of our lives.”

Tears started to stream from down Blake’s cheeks. Even though Robyn tried to protest-- they weren’t supposed to kiss _yet_, they hadn’t even exchanged rings-- Blake kissed her hard, her free hand coming up to cup Yang’s cheek, somewhat crushing her flowers against Yang’s side as she pressed her hand to her waist. Surprised, Yang instinctively flung her flowers in the direction of their seated friends, to tangle her fingers into Blake’s hair and close her eyes.

“For the love of--” Robyn began, but Nora’s pleased cackling in the background drowned out whatever words Robyn was muttering. 

At least they didn’t keep the crowd waiting long. They broke the kiss, only then finding the decency to be somewhat embarrassed, but found that most of the crowd had been distracted by a flustered Weiss, who had caught Yang’s flowers and was clutching them like a lifeline. Nora laughed, pointing a finger at Weiss, who looked like she wanted to melt into her chair.

“Are y’all about done?” Robyn asked with a sigh. “Maybe we could actually _finish_ the wedding before dealin’ with any more of those shenanigans.”

Abashed, both of them nodded. Robyn rolled her eyes.

“So, Blake… any words?”

“Oh… of course!” She was a little flushed, but she found her words a little more smoothly than Yang had. Their eyes met. “I… didn’t exactly think you were anything special when I first met _you_, Yang,” she admitted, the corners of her mouth twitching in a smile. “I thought all you were was an arrogant, albeit beautiful, gunslinger. I came to Mantle expecting to hate you, _convinced _I would hate you. I didn’t want to like you at all.”

Yang smiled weakly. She could still see Blake in her mind’s eye, wearing dirty, sweat-stained clothes, who still looked Yang up and down and said, “_Sellout_.” She’d had fire, even then.

“And… I was right, about some of that,” Blake said, eyes twinkling. “You _are_ an arrogant, beautiful gunslinger.”

Everyone laughed, Yang most of all.

“The thing is… I never really thought much about my future,” Blake told her softly, ears flattening. “It was hard to think about, being with the White Fang for so long. I couldn’t really afford to think about it. Everything was so… tumultuous. We spent so much time thinking about fighting, about protesting, about injustice… that we never stopped to consider what we’d do when we finally achieved peace.”

She took Yang’s hand in her own, gripping it tightly. Her palm was slightly sweaty, and Yang gave it a comforting squeeze.

“It was only after meeting you… that I ever let myself think about that peace. About being _happy_, and in love. I always assumed that this was something I could only find in the books I read.” She smiled, her eyes so soft as they held Yang’s. “I never thought that real life could be better. But you are, Yang. The love in those stories could never hold a candle to the love I feel for you. And I… I’m so happy that I can spend the rest of my life with you.”

Yang leaned her head in, pressing her forehead to Blake’s. A couple tears fell between them, though it was impossible to tell which tear belonged to who. Yang reached up to brush at the tear stains on Blake’s cheek.

“I love you,” Yang told her quietly.

“And I love you.”

Yang moved in, as if to kiss her again, but Robyn’s purposeful cough reminded them that the ceremony wasn’t over yet. Reluctantly, Yang straightened back up, then gave Robyn a nod.

Smiling, Robyn reached into one of the breast pockets of her vest, pulling out something and handing it to Yang.

“Ready?”

“Yep.” Yang took the ring from her. It was a simple gold band, though on the inside was stamped a symbol of their own design: it was a combination of Yang’s own burning heart emblem and Blake’s belladonna flower. Yang knew that the same stamp would be on the inside of her own ring, as well.

Blake held out her hand, spreading her fingers enough for Yang’s to slide the ring on.

"Blake Belladonna, I offer you this ring, and with it, my heart. May you hold it, and keep it close, for all of our days, and for whatever comes after.” Yang smiled brilliantly, clasping Blake’s hand in her own.

“Oh Yang,” Blake said softly, her own smile lighting her face. “I’ll take your heart, to cherish and safeguard, for as long as you’ll let me have.”

“Always,” Yang whispered.

Wordlessly, Robyn reached into her second pocket, pulling out the other ring and handing it to Blake.

“Yang Xiao Long, in place of your heart, please take my own. May you hold it, and keep it close, for all of our days, and for whatever comes after. I will always stay by your side.” She took Yang’s hand, brushing it with her thumb as she slid the ring onto Yang’s waiting finger. “With this ring, I pledge to you my life.”

“And I pledge to you my own.”

“Then,” Robyn said with a kind smile, “by the power invested in me by the Beacon town council, I hereby pronounce y’all lawfully wed.” She paused, and her smile shifted to a smirk. “_Now_ y’all may kiss your bride.”

The words were barely out of Robyn’s mouth before Blake and Yang were kissing again, this time to a round of applause. Yang’s fingers, one of them newly-ringed, once again buried into Blake’s hair, mussing the flowers that were laced into it.

They broke apart, only for a moment, their faces still inches apart, staring into each other’s eyes. Then they kissed again, their bodies close enough to feel their hearts pounding.

The hearts that belonged to each other, for the rest of their lives.

\--

And then there was the afterparty.

Pyrrha had made a vanilla cake for the occasion, frosted with a buttery icing that melted in Yang’s mouth. She and Blake each took a turn feeding each other a small piece, dabbing a tiny bit of frosting on each other’s noses. Ruby insisted it was a waste of perfectly good frosting, but Yang didn’t, especially when she saw how cute it looked on Blake’s face.

In addition to the cake, there was a simple dinner, during which both Kali and Taiyang each gave a small speech, full of sweet memories and embarrassing anecdotes about their daughters. There was _aww_ing and there was laughter, and even a few groans when Taiyang snuck some puns into his own speech.

There was so much to celebrate, and all of it was for _them_.

After the dinner, Ruby took a seat at the piano bench and cracked her knuckles before stumbling into a simple, upbeat melody. She was nowhere near as good as Penny had been, but Yang had no doubt that someday, if she kept up with the practice, she’d get pretty close.

All eyes were on Yang and Blake as they stepped through their first dance as a married couple. She kept her hand on Blake’s waist, guiding her through the motions. Blake always had a way of moving so elegantly, and she’d gotten so used to dancing with a one-armed partner that there were no mistakes, nothing to mar her grace. Yang lowered her into a shallow dip, feeling Blake’s spine bend beneath her hand.

Everything was perfect.

Laughter flowed freely that evening, as did the booze. By the time Jaune opened the doors to the general public, Yang was feeling a mild buzz, and Blake sported a constant blush. At one point, someone suggested that Yang try to arm-wrestle Winter, an idea that Yang simply couldn’t refuse.

“My one arm is stronger than both of hers put together!” Yang insisted, pulling out a chair and slamming her elbow down on the table. Even in a wedding dress, she liked to think she looked intimidating. “It has to do twice the work of hers, so it can kick her ass any day of the week!”

Winter wasn’t much of a drinker, but Robyn had been plying her with enough moonshine that her icy blue eyes blazed with a rare wildness.

“You are _on_, Xiao Long,” Winter said, pulling out a chair across from her. “Just because I haven’t driven cattle in a while doesn’t mean I’ve gone soft.”

Weiss, a lightweight on a good day, was drunk enough to lose all sense of grace. In her hurry to stand up, she forgot to push her chair out from the table she was at, nearly sending the table and all the drinks on it to the floor. She stumbled, only caught by Pyrrha at the last moment.

“You’re gonna fall flat,” Pyrrha scolded lightly, though there was a sprinkling of laughter in her voice.

“I wanna try!” Weiss insisted, but Yang had already slammed all of her weight against Winter’s hand.

It didn’t last long; Winter’s left arm was nowhere near as strong or muscular as Yang’s, and she groaned loudly as Yang forced her hand to the tabletop. Ruby whooped loudly, drowning out Weiss’s demands to be the next one to go up against Yang.

Yang had never expected her wedding day to include an arm wrestling competition, but Blake didn’t discourage it, only laughing as Yang pinned Weiss’s hand to the table almost instantly. And then there was Robyn, and Pyrrha, and Nora, and Ruby. Each time, Yang won, laughing as she forced each hand down.

“All the losers owe me a drink!” Yang insisted, and a loud chorus of groans answered her.

But it was Blake who shoved a fresh tankard at her, laughing. “Let’s get some fresh air for a minute,” she said, giving Yang’s shoulder a gentle shake. Grinning, Yang rose, giving a jaunty wave to her competitors as she followed Blake out the swinging doors.

“I had to stop you,” Blake told her teasingly. “You’re embarrassing them.”

“Then they shoulda known better than to take me on,” Yang replied, pleased with herself. Blake chuckled.

Night had fallen, and with the music and laughter coming from inside the saloon, Yang remembered another night long ago, when she and Blake had kissed in front of the old Crocea Mors. That had been the night Blake had chosen to stay with Yang.

And now, they were married.

Yang took a sip of her drink, looking upward at the starry sky. Wisps of clouds blocked out some of it, but overall, it was a beautiful night.

“It was getting a little stuffy in there,” Blake admitted, looking over at Yang with an almost shy smile. “So, thank you for coming out here. With me.”

“I’ll go with you anywhere,” Yang replied cheerfully, setting her mug carefully on the ground. “Outside, or inside, to heaven or hell… I’ll go there. Now that we’re married and everything.”

“We really are, huh?” Blake lifted her left hand, admiring the ring for a moment before setting her hand on Yang’s lower back. She leaned her head against Yang’s shoulder. “I meant what I said in there, y’know. I never really expected to get married. I always thought that getting married just wasn’t in my cards.”

“And now?” Yang prodded gently.

“And now I have… so many thoughts for the future,” Blake said, smiling. “There’s so many possibilities with you. With us. With the White Fang, and Beacon… it’s like we can do anything now.”

“We can,” Yang agreed, giving Blake a quick kiss on the head. There were still a couple flowers caught in her hair, and one of them brushed Yang’s lips. “Anything we want, baby. The two famous gunslingers… we could literally do anything.”

“Jaune was actually telling me… you know how he went to Argus last week?”

“Yeah.” Yang raised an eyebrow, looking down at her. With the autotrain up and running again, it made it a lot easier for Jaune to go to Argus to speak with his suppliers and transport alcohol. “What about it?”

“He visited a saloon and heard someone singing a song about us.”

“Wait, really?” Yang asked, truly surprised. She knew that there were stories circulating about them, but this was the first song she’d heard about. “I don’t s’pose he learned it while he was there, did he?”

“You know he’s tone deaf,” Blake replied, chuckling. “I doubt he could’ve even if he wanted to.”

“Oh, good point.” Yang paused. “So… what was the gist of it? Was it good?”

“He says it was all good things,” Blake assured her. “Apparently, it was about our fights. With... Adam.”

She said his name like she didn’t want to, like a distasteful word she would have rather not said. Yang turned, just enough so that she could take Blake’s hand in her own. She squeezed it.

“But… Jaune did say that the song was called _The Gunslinger_,” Blake went on, not lingering on Adam’s name. She shook her head in amusement, the lock of hair at her temple bobbing slightly. “But the title didn’t refer to either of us specifically. We were both called the _Gunslinger_ at different points in the song, so I think it was supposed to mean both of us.”

“Sounds like a confusing song,” Yang remarked, but she was smiling. “But I like it. It’s just like we’ve been sayin’... we’re the Gunslinger together, not when we’re apart.”

“Two halves of a whole Gunslinger,” Blake said, her own smile widening.

Yang couldn’t help herself. She bent, catching Blake’s lips on her own, tasting a faint hint of sugar; she must have gone back for a little more cake before they came out here. They kissed long and slow, Yang’s tongue trailing delicately across Blake’s lower lip. She nibbled lightly, then licked into Blake’s mouth, smiling when Blake sighed into hers. They could afford to take their time now. 

They had all the time in the world for things like kissing.

“I think it’s nice,” Yang said at last, slowly straightening. “That they’re tellin’ tales about the both of us now. That we’re goin’ down in history together.”

“Oh?” Blake’s eyes seemed to glow in the moonlight, her swollen lips curling in amusement.

“People sang songs about me before, about the so-called _Gunslinger_,” Yang explained, shrugging. With the movement, Blake’s eyes darted to her exposed collarbone before holding Yang’s gaze again. “But they were never really _finished_. I couldn’t get that classic, heroic finish, ‘cause I was always racin’ off into my next adventure. I was so young and stupid.”

“You still are,” Blake pointed out, then squeaked when Yang poked her in the stomach.

“Quiet, you,” Yang said, wrinkling her nose but still unable to keep a grin off her face. “Anyway, when the stories have _two_ of us… we get that ending, with all the cheesy romance and ridin’ off into the sunset…”

“I guess that’s how cowboy stories are supposed to end,” Blake replied reasonably, tilting her head, as if waiting for another kiss. “True love and happy endings.”

“Fortunately,” Yang said, leaning her head in, ready to give one to her, “I think we got both of those now, don’t you think?”

“I think so,” Blake said, drawing her lips closer to Yang’s. She smiled. “Which makes our story a wonderful one.”

“Yeah,” Yang agreed. “I think it does.”

They kissed again, and Yang couldn’t think of a better ending to their story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Months later, Gunslinger is DONE!! The plan for this fic was like "lol oh maybe 100k words idk"... and then it grew legs and a mind of its own. Anyway, mistakes were made, but I'm super proud of how this turned out. I hope y'all enjoyed it! I'm going to miss this universe!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who took the time to comment, or leave kudos, or reblogged, or whatever the cool kids do these days.
> 
> HUGE thank you to [Aziminil](https://aziminil.tumblr.com/), my constant, faithful beta reader. As much as I love to call you a bitch, you have been INVALUABLE and I’m so grateful you helped me with this fic… I have no idea where I’d be without you!!
> 
> Also thank you to my sister [sunnyteea](https://sunnyteea.tumblr.com/), who beta’d the first three chapters and got me into RWBY in the first place! Also thank you to the numerous people I’ve consulted along the way… I credited them in the chapters they helped with! Also thank you to Seny/SaigamiProject for all your constant peptalks!! They've helped so much!
> 
> This giant-ass fic has been a labor of love, and I’ve been writing it at the weirdest fucking time in my life. I was still living in Texas at the beginning of the story, and since then, I’ve moved back to Maine. It’s like with finishing this fic, I’m finally saying goodbye to the desert I lived in. But that’s okay! I’m only moving forward now!
> 
> I’ve already got plans for my next fic, so make sure you stay tuned! In the meantime, my askbox is always open, and I try to respond to all comments. Please stay safe in these scary times, always wash your hands. If RTX is still going on this year, hit me up and say hello! Also, I'm participating in the [Bumbleby Big Bang](https://bumblebybigbang.tumblr.com/), so if you write or draw, consider joining!
> 
> Take care of yourselves, darlings.

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s the promised fic that I hinted about in my Bumbleby week oneshot, _Hangman_. Gonna try and update this one just once a week, but the size of the chapters should make up for my slower pace. I hope y’all enjoy! Feel free to follow me on tumblr or twitter-- I always post on both when I update. Comments are always appreciated!
> 
> When the later chapters come, I’ll drop NSFW/violence/trigger warnings as needed. This is going to be a bit darker than my previous fics, but stick around. It’ll be okay. :)
> 
> Tumblr: [@pugoata](https://pugoata.tumblr.com/)  
Twitter:[@pugoata](https://twitter.com/pugoata)  
Playlist: [On Spotify!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1ncll8WW4GA9spXqH4ROf6?si=nqpYc3NLQ2u8DJ7UShOkaw)


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